


Smut Season 2019

by DaddyFuckinLongLegs



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Chapter 7 is the nasty one, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 06:57:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20862101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaddyFuckinLongLegs/pseuds/DaddyFuckinLongLegs
Summary: Kinktober yadda yadda, here's a bunch of smut.





	1. Deepthroat - Nate/MacCready

Nate shut the door behind him and lay his hand flat on MacCready's chest, pushing him steadily back against the mattress. The other hand snaked down the merc's belly, tugging at his belt, toying with his fly. MacCready grinned, pulling his shirt up to his chest, letting Nate flick open the buttons on his pants, and tucked his arms behind his head, basking in the warm yellow light; the curtains were drawn but softly lit, as though they radiated light of their own. He sighed, adjusting his cap. 

“And here I was thinking you were gonna let me stew all afternoon.”

Nate pressed his mouth to MacCready's taught, flat stomach, and shut his eyes, running his fingers under the top of Mac's pants, clenching the fabric tight in his fingers, his nose pressed pointedly in the thin curls of hair winding from his navel.

“Huh. Now why would I wanna do a thing like that?” 

“Because you're a jerk that likes to watch me squirm.”

Nate hummed against the merc's skin, kissing a soft little “o” beside his belly-button, working his thumbs around the join of Mac's hips.

“Mmm. You could be right there.”

“I could be, couldn't I?”

He looked at the ceiling, chewing his bottom lip softly, enjoying the weight of the other man against him, the slow shifting of heavy fabric against his groin, the gentle tension in his balls as his dick responded to the sensation. Man, this was gonna be good. He loved it when Nate got to take his time; the man was an old-timer for sure, not your average fifteen-minutes-on-a-dirty-mattress wasteland lay, and he tested MacCready's patience for sure, but jeez, it was worth it.

Mac looked down, watching Nate's face dip between his thighs, his cheek resting against one leg, his hand running up and over the bump in Mac's pants, thumb tracing a firm line back down, sending a warm little shiver through his belly. 

Man this was gonna be good.

He shut his eyes, letting Nate do his thing, chattering idly.

“So how am I earnin' my keep today, boss? You want me up against the wall outside again? On all fours and barking like a dog? In a little frilly housemaid outfit - “Oh no, how clumsy of me to break the family china, I simply must be punished” and you spank me with a feather duster up my ass?”

Nate laughed, tugging the merc's pants down, MacCready's hips arcing off the bed.

“That sounds suspiciously well thought out, Bobby. Something you wanna tell me?” He laughed, and continued. “No, today you're gonna suffer a little more sweetly, I promise.”

“Aww, I was starting to look forward to being verbally abused to get your rocks off.”

Nate swept his hand up softly, trailing his fingers over MacCready's nuts, kissing the little raised muscles on the inside of his thigh.

“Bobby, I am gonna be as ruthless as ever. You can count on that. I am gonna suck your dick mercilessly. Absolutely,” he dragged his tongue towards MacCready's balls, “without remorse.” 

His tongue circled and swept across the soft, delicate skin; flat, and wet, and warm, and working slowly up from the base of MacCready's hard cock. 

“No. Fucking. Quarter.”

He pressed his lips against the tip, flicking his tongue against the little ridge of flesh, and Mac's mouth parted in a soft sigh. Nate's fingers dug into MacCready's hip, and he tipped his head, pulling Mac's foreskin gently between his lips, then licking a thick line down the length of him.

He looked up; Bobby was a hell of a sight, one hand bunched in the bedsheet, the other resting at his chest, twirling his nipple between his fingertips, bottom lip caught in his teeth. Nate swirled his tongue and lifted his head, taking MacCready's cock in his hand and sliding it softly into his mouth.

MacCready groaned loudly, pulling his knees up and pushing forward with his hips. Nate pushed down, breathing smoothly through his nose, and swallowed; MacCready gasped, his dick buried firmly in Nate's throat, so tight and hot, and his nerves were running wild.

“_Oh_ _shit_.” he whispered, and Nate bobbed his head, taking him deeper, holding him there, cupping his balls and pressing a finger behind them, close to his ass. A wave of thick pleasure shuddered over him, and he grabbed Nate's hair, moaning his name, pumping his hips in short bursts. Nate held still, letting him buck and moan and writhe, then slowly he pulled back, fluttering his tongue, thick saliva coating MacCready's dick. He pushed down again, shutting his eyes, pressing his nose tight against MacCready's pubic bone, holding it, then pulled back again, letting Mac's dick slide out of his mouth and back against the merc's stomach.

MacCready sat up on his elbows, eyes wide, eyelids heavy, staring at Nate with his mouth hanging open.

“Holy _shit_, how do you do that? It feels amazing, man. _Amazing_.”

Nate laughed, cleared his throat.

“You never done that before?”

Mac shook his head.

"Well, no, I mean- I meant how do you actually do it? How do you... Don't you wanna throw up?”

Nate laughed.

“There's a knack to it, sure, but it's not hard. I could teach you, but it means you gotta stop being such a pillow princess and actually do some work.”

MacCready tipped his head cockily.

“Hey, anything you can do, I can do better.”

Nate stood, swatting the cap from Mac's head.

“Shut up, jackass, you don't even know where that's from."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be a follow up to this, later on down the list...


	2. Medical play, squirting/watersports - Deacon/Piper

"Hey Carrington, mind if I borrow this?"  
  
Deacon waved the empty syringe in the air, rummaging through the gear on the table; a steel tray, splints, a mask, gloves, a scalpel...  
  
The doctor looked at him, frowning. “What in-”  
  
“Oooh, and maybe this?”  
  
He held up a ream of IV tubing, grinning, slipping the mask and a set of gloves into his pocket. Carrington rushed to his side, swiping the tubing away and glaring at him.  
  
“Put that down you idiot; you don't “borrow”a syringe unless you want to contract some kind of blood-borne disease. You haven't even washed your hands, have you? For god's sake, get out of here.” He rolled his eyes skyward, gritting his teeth, muttering. “Maybe a bout of Hepatitis wouldn't be so terrible. At least we'd be rid of you.”  
  
Deacon looked at the doctor, his mouth hanging open in feigned shock.  
  
“Ouch, Doc, that really hurt my feelings. Don't you usually get a lollipop for being a big brave boy when the doctor does something nasty?”  
  
Carrington slammed his hands on the table.  
  
“_Out!_”  
  
Deacon snickered, walking away, pilfered goods sitting neatly in his pocket – the doc wouldn't miss 'em, and it was sure easier picking them up here than braving a pre-war hospital for the sake of... He smiled, catching himself before letting the thought run through. Plenty of time to think about it later. He sauntered to the back of the room, through the smashed brick of the church basement, and down the makeshift ramp to PAM's room.  
  
“Afternoon PAM;” he called, “Gonna take a little wander over to Diamond City later, anything need picking up?”  
  
PAM whirred to life, clunking to the centre of the room.

“_Engaging... Enabling human/machine interface. Introductory token recognised. Hello, _Deacon. _Analyzing... Mission details commencing: No current intel of rogue variables. No current cache locations detected.”_  
  
“Nice, nice.” he laughed, perching on the corner of the desk in the centre of the room. “Anything for yourself? Little can of coolant for the end of the day?”  
  
“_Error. Verbal token not recognised.”  
  
“_How about this; what are the odds that Curie will let me borrow the surgery for an hour or two?”  
  
“_Error. Unkown variable. Prediction unavailable.”_  
  
“That's what I thought. No worries _Pamela_, I'll catch you later.”  
  
“_Error_. _Verbal token not recognised. Ending human/machine interface.”  
_  
  
*  
  
  
“Hey Curie.”  
  
Curie looked up, his voice an unexpected sound among the bustle of Diamond City Market. She slotted the beaker she was holding into a stand and rinsed her hands, smiling.  
  
“Monsieur Deacon, how pleasant to see you! I trust you are keeping in good health?”  
  
“Fit as a fiddle with fresh strings. How about you?”  
  
“Well, _merci,_ although I am reaching something of a... how to describe... a wall with my research. I think it will be necessary to acquire more of the _radscorpion_ venom before I can synthesise an effective antidote. Monsieur Stahl will not be pleased to hear this, I fear.”  
  
Deacon shrugged.  
  
“He'll get over it. He's gotta do the legwork if he wants the spoils, right?”  
  
He leaned forward, elbows on the countertop and lowered his voice.  
  
“Listen, Curie, I've got a question.”  
  
She leaned forward, eyebrows raised.  
  
“Do you think I could borrow the basement tomorrow evening? For a couple of hours...” He tapped the side of his nose, “_official business_.”  
  
Curie smiled excitedly.  
  
“Ah, is there to be a _delivery_? Do you require me to, mmm, _giftwrap_ the package, as before?”  
  
Deacon laughed. That one must've been Nate's idea; had to hand it to him, installing Curie in place of the late Dr. Crocker had been a smart move. A safe surgeon in Diamond city, while it seemed risky, was paying off well since McDonough had bitten the dust.  
  
“Not this time. We've just gotta duct tape the edges a little, ask a couple questions.”  
  
He cleared his throat.  
  
“Ms. Wright might be accompanying me, so don't worry, if you see her around here later.”  
  
“How _exciting. _Of course, the surgery is yours, please, take as long as you need. And you can be assured, as always, you have my discretion, but please do not hesitate to call upon me if you require anything more complex.”  
  
Deacon bit back a smile as she slid open a drawer and dropped the key into his outstretched hand.  
_  
Too easy.  
_

*  
  
Piper found the note, slipped under the door, tucked inside a flattened packet of gum. _Curie's lab, 8 pm, basement. Knock twice. Be there, or be some sort of two dimensional shape. _She smiled to herself, face flushing, tucking it into her pocket.  
  
*  
  
She hugged her shoulders as she walked through the market, strolling casually towards the surgery, her heart beating loud in her ears. She felt twitchy, secretly meeting a lover in a hidden spot, but did her best not to look around, over her shoulder, anywhere other than straight ahead. No one would suspect anything, she kept telling herself, Curie was her _friend, _it was perfectly normal to call round, even after hours. And letting herself in, well, that wouldn't be suspicious, if she didn't _make _it suspicious. She stepped up onto the decking, slipping around the corner and standing over the hatch.  
_  
Okay. Here goes.  
_  
She squatted down, rapped twice on the metal. Scuffling. The lock clicked open, and the hatch lifted, slowly, and Deacon grinned at her from the bottom of the stairs.  
  
“Ms. Wright? Care to follow me this way?”  
  
Piper giggled, dropping down and descending the stairs.  
  
“Please, take a seat. Mind your step there, we've had some renovations recently, still putting the finishing touches on the waiting room.”  
  
He stepped over to the couch, gestured around him, and Piper laughed out loud. He was shirtless, dressed in spotless combat pants and a pristine white lab coat that swept open with every movement, a surgical mask and stethoscope hung about his neck, ever present sunglasses gleaming in the bright lights of the operating room.  
  
He broke character for a moment, grinning at her.  
  
“You like it?”  
  
“Shit, Deacon, you really did it.” She laughed, screwing her face up, hiding her face behind her hand. “You're ridiculous, y'know that? Son-of-a-bitch. I really gotta commit to it now, huh?”  
  
He nodded, pulling back the curtain, gesturing to the hospital bed.  
  
“Right this way, ma'am.”  
  
Piper shrugged off her coat and sat tentatively on the edge of the bed, arms across her chest. Deacon hopped up the steps and locked the hatch behind them, then sat down in the chair opposite Piper, crossing his legs at the knee and picking up a clipboard from beside him.  
  
“So, Ms. Wright, what seems to be the problem?”  
  
Piper shuffled nervously.  
  
“Well, uhh, _Doctor_, I guess I've been having trouble, uh... sleeping. Y'know, I just lie there at night, all on my own, and I just get so... restless.”  
  
Deacon pursed his lips.  
  
“Is that so. Why don't you tell me about what you do, before bed. Give me an idea or your... routine.”  
  
“Well,” Piper tapped her chin, thinking, “ I usually read a little, I like those magazines with the bookish dames being seduced by strong, mysterious men. They don't always have a happy ending but they sure have interesting, uh, developments, in the middle. Sometimes, I notice my temperature change, like my face and neck feels hot...”  
  
Deacon leaned forward, tapping a pencil against his lips.  
  
“Mhmm, then what?”  
  
“Then I usually take a shower, y'know, living in the city, y'know, I can get so... dirty.”  
  
She uncrossed her arms, tilting her head innocently.  
  
“Do you know what I mean?”  
  
Deacon nodded, slowly, pressing his tongue against his teeth. She was a better actor that she gave herself credit for.  
  
“And after the shower?”  
  
“Well, I towel off. Slowly, because it's only a really _small _towel, it barely covers _anything,_ so it can take a little while, and sometimes...”  
  
She twirled a lock of hair around her finger.  
  
“... sometimes I miss a spot, and have to go to bed all wet...”  
  
Deacon grinned against the pencil.  
  
“That must be pretty frustrating."  
  
She swung her legs, batted her eyelids, leaning forward.  
  
”It's unbearable, Doc.” She sighed. “And then I just lie there, tossing, and turning, like I can't get comfortable, sometimes it's like... like there's this _itch,_ between my thighs, that I just can't scratch...”  
  
Deacon cleared his throat.  
  
“Well, Ms Wright, from the sound of it, I think I'll have to make a physical examination. So, I'm gonna need you to lie down for me, and if you could remove your shirt...”  
  
Piper swung her feet up onto the bed, lifting her shirt over her head, her thin vest beneath clinging closely to her skin. She lay back, slowly. The rubber sheet squeaked beneath her, cold and tacky against her skin, and then Deacon was standing over her, shifting her hair from her shoulder, brushing it behind her ear.  
  
“This might feel a little cold.”  
  
He plugged the stethoscope into his ears, and pressed the disc to her chest, between her collarbones. She inhaled sharply, the metal like ice against her skin, and screwed her eyes shut, steadying her breathing. Deacon listened intently; her heart was hammering hard, he could see the little tremors across her chest, across the soft skin of her breasts, with every beat. He moved the metal diaphragm down lower, and lower, the back of his hand brushing softly against her breast, and little flurry of pleasure swept through his groin.

He hummed thoughtfully, concentrating on the character, glancing at his wa- _oh shit._ He knew he'd forgotten something. He _mimed _looking at his watch, counted a rough minute.  
  
“Seems your heart rate is a little elevated. How are you feeling right now?”  
  
“Mmm, a little warm actually, doc. My face is getting kinda hot.”  
  
He pulled the stethoscope from his ears.  
  
“Well make yourself comfortable, Ms Wright. If you need to take off another layer, that won't be a problem.”  
  
She shuffled, slowly lifting her vest up over her stomach, carefully sliding it over her head. The air was cool, her bare nipples immediately standing to attention, and Deacon made a small sound in his throat. She snickered. _Like what you see, Doctor?  
_  
He coughed.  
_  
“So tell me, _Ms. Wright, you mentioned a strange sensation between the thighs? Would you mind me taking a look?”  
  
Her fingers dropped to the button of her pants.  
  
“Not at all. I'm sure I can trust you, Doctor.”  
  
She fiddled with the button awkwardly, wriggled her pants down her hips, down to her knees, down to her ankles, letting her knees drop wide. Deacon reached into his pocket, fishing out the gloves, and rolling them on, snapping the latex loudly. Piper giggled, her hands bunching at her sides.  
  
“Okay, I'm gonna press a little here, I'm looking for any areas of unusual sensitivity. Just let me know if it feels uncomfortable.”  
  
He laid his hand carefully against her thigh, pressing two fingers into the muscle, working slowly upward, the warmth of his hands through the latex felt good against her skin, against the join of her hip, against the seam of her panties. She took a deep breath.  
  
“Is that uncomfortable?” He asked.  
  
She shook her head.  
  
“Not exactly.”  
  
“I'm gonna need you to be more specific, Ms. Wright.”  
  
“Well, it feels...sensitive, but not uncomfortable. Like the feeling I was telling you about.”  
  
He smiled.  
  
“Now we're getting somewhere. Does it get more, or less “_sensitive” _if I press here?”  
  
He moved his hand higher. She was starting to tremble, and his dick throbbed, eager to get at her already.  
  
“About the same.”  
  
God, he was getting hard. He shifted his fingers, closer to the centre of her.  
  
“Here?”  
  
“Umm... more.” Her voice was breathy, soft. She was really into this, Deacon couldn't help a smile.  
  
His hand hovered above her clit, dropping softly against the light cotton of her panties.  
  
“Here?”  
  
She squirmed against him.  
  
“Ah! More. Yeah, a lot more.” She whispered, giggling, “I think you found it, Doc. The, uh, root of the problem.”  
  
He nodded sternly.  
  
“Then let's take a look.”  
  
He gripped her hips firmly and pulled her to the edge of the bed, curling his fingers under the elastic of her panties and sliding them smoothly down to her ankles, biting at his bottom lip. She sat up, watching him as he lifted her knees down and stood between them. His hand reached for her again, stroking a mean little streak up her vulva, the thin gloves sliding against her wet pussy, then pressing firmly over the small, pink bump of her clit. She sighed.  
  
“Yeah, doc, that's _definitely _it.”  
  
She touched his face, nudging his glasses.  
  
“Maybe you could see a little better without these on? I just wanna be sure the examination is...thorough, y'know?”  
  
He smiled, folding them into the pocket of the labcoat. “An excellent idea.”  
  
“Hmm.” He squatted down to his knees, pushing her legs apart, one hand on each thigh. “It does seem a little... swollen.”  
  
He leaned in, close to her, close enough that she could feel his breath against her skin. His fingers pushed gently, rubbing little circles around her clit, flicking at the sensitive spot. He looked up at her, and the eye contact made her weak.  
  
“How does that feel?”

She shut her eyes, sighing, gripping the edge of the mattress.  
  
“It's... good, oh _god Deacon_ it's good.”  
  
He smiled and stood up, pulling his hands away. She huffed.  
  
“Ms. Wright, I think the answer is presenting itself. I'd suggest a course of... intimate massage. If you'd like, I could show you the techniques?”  
  
She grabbed the hem of his coat, pulling him close to her, sliding her hand down his bare chest, tracing his abs with her finger, and reaching down to squeeze the front of his pants.  
  
“Mmm, _please_, Doctor. I want you to show me. Show me _everything._”  
  
He pulled back, hard-on leaping in his pants, and cleared his throat.  
  
“One more thing, I'm gonna need to take your temperature, so just hold still for me. Again, this might feel a little cold at first.”  
  
He pulled a slim, glass thermometer from the top pocked of the coat, and trailed the cold point of it down her chest between her breasts, down her stomach, along the muscle inside her thigh to her warm, wet pussy. His fingers parted her labia, stroking against her, and he slid the glass, and the tip of one finger, inside her. Her eyes gaped wide and she laughed in shock.  
  
“Oh _Jesus_.”  
  
He pressed close to her, whispered in her ear.  
  
“Nah, honey, Jesus was a carpenter. I'm just a deacon, remember? _Doctor _Deacon.”  
  
She laughed and threw her head back, and he kissed her throat, her hand fumbling with his fly, his finger pressing into her. He tested another one beside the first, and she arched her back towards him, his fingers pushing deep, beckoning, the thermometer's glass warm between them. She gasped, wrapping both arms around his neck, riding his fingers, sweet, strange pressure building inside her; maybe it was the angle, but god, this felt different, so different, but so, so _fucking good_.  
  
Piper buried her face in his neck, her thighs aching, her stomach tense, and tight.  
  
“Please,” she whispered, “Please, _Doc, _I want you. Oh baby please, fuck me,_”  
  
_He wasted no time, pulling his hand away, sliding the thermometer out of her and about to drop it on the bed – he thought better of it, pressed it to her lips, she giggled and opened her mouth, running her tongue along the glass, the taste of her sharp and salt on her lips. Deacon looked at the little glass stick, pretended to read the number, unfastening his pants and pulling his dick free, then tossed the thermometer aside.  
  
“Just like I thought, honey. You're burning up. Red fucking hot.”  
  
He pushed close to her, arms firm around her waist, taking her weight, and let her lean back as he slid inside her. She dug her nails into his shoulders, crying out, and clenched tight around him. He laughed breathlessly.  
  
“Shit, someone _has_ been keeping up with their Kegels.”  
  
He pushed into her, full force, and pulled out again, the head of his dick rubbing against her g-spot. She tensed in his arms, gasping under her breath, and he did it again, leaning back, the hard, smooth wall of his stomach and hips glistening with her wetness.  
  
“That the spot, baby?”  
  
“Oh _shit, _yes. Oh _shit!”  
_  
He watched his dick slide into her slowly, pulling out fast, dragging the thick ridge of his head hard across that spot, making her melt, and shit she looked pretty, all sweaty an flustered, hands pressed against his chest._  
  
“Don't stop, please,” _she whispered_ “don't- Oh my fucking G_od_!”  
_  
Deacon pulled back, startled, and Piper came hard, shuddering and moaning, thin,clear liquid splashing across his thighs and stomach, soaking his dick.  
  
He laughed in awe, and pushed back into her, pulling out again, another warm burst of wetness rushing from her. He kissed her neck, teeth scraping her pulse, and dropped to his knees, pushing two fingers into her, hooking them up and pressing hard, thrusting them into her, pulling back hard, and he flattened his tongue against her clit, kissing her wetly as her stomach tensed and her orgasm sprayed his mouth, his teeth, his tongue, dripping down his chin and chest.  
  
She fell back flat on the bed, breathing heavy, closing her knees around his face, pushing him away with her fingers on the bridge of his nose, and he kissed her thighs, up her belly, beneath her breasts. He stood, wrapping a hand around his dick, jerking it fast and rough, tugging his balls and tensing his thighs, the smell of her, the taste of her all over him, his stomach tightened, he held his breath... and came, loud, with a long, low groan, cum dripping across his hand, down onto her thighs. She rolled her knees up beneath him, squeezing him close, and he leaned his hips against the mattress, laughing. He reached over, pulled a towel from over the curtain rail.  
  
“Holy _hell, _girl, you oughtta tell a guy you can do that. Almost drowned me. I'm gonna need more than one towel to mop this up.”  
  
She sat up, slowly, and leaned into him, cheeks pink and hair stuck to her face.  
  
“In my defence, I didn't know I could. That makes it's your fault. After all,” she kissed him softly, “You're the doctor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's not *technically* watersports, but it'll have to do.


	3. Sensory deprivation, knife play, edge play - Nate/Hancock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CN for blood and stuff, as you can probably imagine from the title

Nate's knees ached.  
  
His ankles ached.  
  
His back ached.  
  
His shoulders ached.

His jaw ached.  
  
The floorboards under him were warm.  
  
The metal cuffs around his wrists were warm.  
  
The air in his lungs was warm, bursting from his nose in hot little puffs.  
  
The tape across his mouth was warm against his tender skin.  
  
His teeth were gritted hard against the fire in his joints.  
  
His eyes were closed against the rough cloth.  
  
His breathing was steady, focused.  
  
His dick was _so fucking hard_.  
  
The footsteps were muffled, but the sound of boot-heels clicking on the wooden floor made Nate tense against the wall, shoulders pressing against the cold plaster. _Sit up straight. Deep breaths. Focus._ A warm hand ruffled his hair, stroked blissfully down the side of his face, and he shivered.  
  
“How you holdin' up, sunshine?”  
  
Nate lifted his face towards the voice.  
  
“Shall we take this off a minute?”  
  
Hot hands around his face, fingers moving gently at the back of his head, the soft sweep of cloth as it fell from his eyes. He opened them, squinting against the dim light, blinking and turning his face downward, until the room came into focus.  
  
“There ya go, how's that?”  
  
Nate raised his head again slowly, drinking in the colours of the room – rich yellow light, the mahogany boards, the smart, bright crimson of that coat. Hancock stood straight, looking down at him, nudged Nate's knee with the toe of his boot, a jolt of pain buzzing through the joint.  
  
“Y'know how long it's been?”  
  
Nate blinked, shook his head.  
  
“Forty-five minutes. You're doing swell. Must be burnin' up in those knees though, huh? You want a little stretch out?”  
  
Nate nodded. Hancock sighed and squatted down beside him, a wicked smile playing at his lips.  
  
“Fifteen minutes, sugar. That's all. Fifteen minutes.”  
  
He wrapped the cloth back around Nate's eyes, tugging it tight, knotting it, loose strands of hair catching in the knot, pinging sharp sensation at the back of his head. Hancock's hand trailed down along Nate's jaw, thumb swiping across the duct tape over his lips.  
  
“Y'know, I like you this way, brother. None of that smart mouth you're always runnin'. Shit, I could keep you around like this for a long time...”

Hancock dropped his hands and pressed his thumbs into the muscle of Nate's thigh; he gave a sharp, muffled yelp, pain searing up his hips. Hancock smiled, standing up, trailing his hand along Nate's shoulder.  
  
“Yep. A long time.”

His footsteps receded again,and Nate sank into the blackness of his breathing, long, slow, pulls of cool air, hot streams that warmed his mouth as he exhaled. Christ, his knees fucking _hurt_, the bones grinding into the hard floorboards, and he squeezed his eyes shut harder, focusing on the feeling of his lungs filling, and the smooth warmth of the wood, and the hard, urgent tension in his groin. _Fuck_.  
  
He thought about Piper; the gentle way she stroked his skin, the playful kisses she planted in weird places (_the indent in the middle of his chest, the palm of his hand, his armpits, between his shoulder blades_), her hair curling around her face, brushing the tops of her shoulders, her cold skin in the rain, her hard, pink nipples, the softness of her open mouth when she sucked his cock. His stomach twitched, jerking his dick upwards, and Hancock laughed, distantly.  
  
“Thinkin' happy thoughts? Wanna be careful there sunshine; don't spill it too soon, or trust me, I will make you _regret_ it.”  
  
His footsteps paced back across the room to Nate's side, and the cold, shivering sound of a knife being unsheathed came from his left.  
  
“_Really _regret it.”  
  
Nate sucked air through his nose, and Hancock pressed the point of the knife to Nate's collarbone; Nate flinched, rocking back, fat pain shooting through his legs, the knife nicking his skin. Hancock tutted.  
  
“Now look what you did. Gone and got yourself bloody.”  
  
He squatted down, trailing the point down Nate's chest, scraping the skin delicately, and back up to his neck, digging a little harder, thin red lines raising across Nate's skin. The man trembled under his hand. _Shit that was hot. _He pressed his mouth to the thin trickle of blood running down Nate's chest, lapping gently with his tongue, licking across his collarbone, up his neck. __  
  
“You like that, brother?” he purred in Nate's ear, “You wanna bleed for me?”  
  
Nate exhaled, a muffled groan in his throat, but it was all that Hancock needed. He grinned, and twirled the knife, the point twisted a notch in Nate's pale skin, and Hancock dragged it firmly across his chest, slicing a beautiful red ribbon across his flesh, rubbing his hand along the man's thigh, achingly close to his cock. Nate squealed, sucking hard at the gag.  
  
Hancock stood up, roughly tugging the blindfold away, and tearing sharply at the tape covering Nate's mouth, pulling it off. Nate grunted, gasping at the air, his mouth raw and pink, a tiny blossom of blood forming on his lip where the skin had split. Hancock grabbed his jaw, jerking his face upward, and pressed the knife to Nate's throat, the mean edge digging below his adam's apple.  
  
“Ten minutes left. Suck my dick, pretty boy, or they'll be the hardest ten minutes of your life.”  
  
Hancock unfastened his pants roughly, and Nate bent forward, throat tightly pressed to the knife, pulse throbbing against it, mouth leaning hungrily against Hancock's soft dick. He took it in his mouth, all of it, sucking and rolling his tongue over Hancock's mottled skin, and a rush of pleasure hit him when the ghoul reached a hand into his hair, his dick hardening fast in Nate's mouth.

  
Hancock sighed, rolling his head back to the ceiling, stepping back a little. Nate strained his neck, leaning forward, and Hancock tugged at his hair, pressing the knife harder. He stepped back again, Nate's shoulders burning with tension, and again, until Nate was on the bones of his knees, leaning all his weight on one shoulder against Hancock's thigh. Hancock pulled his hair again, fingers fisted at his crown, jerking his head up, arching his back. He stepped away, pulling out of Nate's mouth roughly, letting the knife and the hand in his hair take all the weight, and Nate yelped loudly, the muscles of his back singing in agony as he tried to keep his balance.  
  
“Almost there.” The ghoul laughed cruelly. “Wonder what happens if I let go? One wrong move and it'll be the end of you, huh?”  
  
Nate gasped and gagged, eyes screwed shut, afraid to speak, sinking deep into his mind and stinging sharply in the present all at once. He couldn't do it. He couldn't stay on his knees any longer, this was it, this was _it_, _fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_! He tried to call out, but his throat was dry, a cracked groan the only noise he could make, and his knees gave way. Hancock reacted fast, jerked him roughly aside, letting him slam heavily to the floor, the impact blunt and cold and bruising, but the stinging, aching _relief_ that sang through his legs was... oh, bliss.  
  
He lay on his back, chest heaving, arms still tight and numb behind his back, and Hancock dropped to the floor beside him, stroking the knife up his belly in long, smooth strokes, like a butcher sharpening the blade.  
  
“Close call there sunshine. Bet that adrenaline is something, huh?”  
  
Nate nodded weakly, a faint smile at the corners of his mouth. Hancock reached into his pocket, jangling the key to the cuffs and rolling Nate to his side.  
  
“Here, hold this, wouldya?”  
  
He pushed the cold blade between Nate’s teeth and Nate clamped his mouth shut, shivering as the ghoul uncuffed him. His hands were cold, purple-blue and freezing; Hancock pressed his fingers against Nate's palm.  
  
“Gimme a little squeeze, sunshine.”  
  
Nate didn't move, just breathing, deep, slowing breaths. Hancock nudged him.  
  
“Still there?”  
  
Nate squeezed the ghouls hand, firmly, and Hancock sat back, nodding, rolling Nate onto his back.  
  
He straddled his legs, pressing his ass down gently against Nate's thighs, and reached down and cupped Nate's balls, squeezing gently, rubbing his thumb in wide circles.  
  
“Y'know, you're tougher than you look. I'm a bastard, I know, but that was an hour and ten. Pushed right on through it. Special with a capital E, ain't you? Though I am looking forward to seeing you hobble outta here in the morning and try to tell your girlfriend why you're in such a state. Bruised, and bleeding, and just a little...”  
  
He bent forward, kissing Nate's slack mouth, drawing a faint, satisfied sigh.  
  
“...irradiated.”  
  
Nate's dick had softened, but the blood rushing back to his thighs - pins and needles prickling unbearably through his legs and feet as his capillaries flushed with blood again - and the ghoul's hand toying with him, and the thin weight of Hancock's dick nudging against his leg, brought him back to life. Hancock swept his hand along the shaft, slowly, slowly, tracing his nails around the head, pulling softly. Nate sighed, and Hancock brought the knife down, carefully scraping the vein on the underside of Nate's cock, up, and down, scratching maddeningly at his soft skin. He flicked the point up, tapping it gently against the sensitive spot, and Nate groaned and curled inwards, his dick twitching, cum spurting thick across the blade, across his stomach, across Hancock's hand.

  
He laughed, almost growling, still rubbing the blade softly against the other man, and let Nate shudder through his orgasm in a cold, sweating mess on the floorboards. He ran his fingers jaggedly down Nate's chest, nails rasping against his skin, and slid his hand under Nate's shoulder, taking the man's weight against his arm, lifting him up.  
  
“Sit up, sunshine, I still gotta take care of business.”  
  
Nate slid backwards, sitting up against the wall, hands folded limp in his lap, and Hancock tapped his cheek.  
  
“Open up. You gotta clean up this mess.”  
  
Nate opened his mouth, pushing his tongue out, and Hancock pressed the knife against his tongue, grinning.  
  
“Lick it up, sugar. Like you mean it.”  
  
Nate closed his mouth around the blade, sucking it like a cock, the metal sharp against his cheeks, the bitter, salt taste of his cum coating his mouth, and the metallic taste of the steel, like blood, stinging his tongue. He looked up into Hancock's eyes as the ghoul jacked off over his chest.  
  
“That's right, oh, that's right, you dirty _fuck. Suck it, _oh fuck yeah. _Fuck _yeah, I'm coming, open those pretty blue eyes for me.”  
  
Nate did as he was told, and Hancock bucked into his hand, thick, white splashes covering Nate's flushed face. Hancock grit his teeth, and groaned, sitting back on his knees and wiping his brow, sliding the knife from Nate's mouth and dropping it to the floor beside him. He tucked his cock back into his pants, looking at Nate, admiring the view – everyone's favourite do-good drifter, soiled and sated and bleeding, on his ass on the floor of the state house. He laughed.  
  
“You, sunshine, you're fucking nasty. Wish we'd gotten this little arrangement together sooner.”  
  
Nate nodded, smiling weakly, letting his eyes close.  
  
“Yeah.” He croaked, as Hancock planted himself beside him, running a hand softly through his hair.  
  
“No one kicks my ass quite like you do.”


	4. Spanking, spitroasting, crying - Nate/MacCready/Hancock/Magnolia

The Third Rail was a hell of a place. One night your worst enemy, can't get a drink until you've indentured yourself to the robotic barman; the next thing, you're sitting in the VIP room, watching The Mayor himself sprawled out on a chair with the prettiest lounge singer in town, while MacCready lay on the sofa with his arm wrapped around a little blonde thing - 

_Come on jerk, she's got a name. H...Holly? Helen? Hea... Heather._

\- he picked up at the bar. She seemed more interested in Hancock, truth be told, but she wasn't exactly... discriminating. MacCready was pretty well sauced, giggling and snickering, handsy and playful. He'd opened a bottle with his teeth, the cap flying down the top of her dress and he pressed their faces close together and slipped his hand down after it. She slapped his hand away, but pressed close to him, laughing, and planted a little kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

Hancock waved his arms exuberantly. 

“Trust me, this shit is unbelievable. Just...”

He kissed his fingers and grinned.

“Sharp and fresh but with all the warm fuzzies of the best jet you can find. Regular mentats ain't got a patch on 'em, but they taste like shit, so you're better...”

He mimed snorting a line off the back of his hand.

“You... you know how to-”

Nate nodded, laughing.

“Believe it or not, John, we had a fairly substantial drug trade before the war; college kids, housewives,” he grinned, “the fine, fine servicemen of the US Navy – yeah, I know how.”

Hancock leaned forward.

“Well lemme tell you, you never did a line until you did a line with this fine lady.”

He reached and took Magnolia's hand delicately; she laughed and let Hancock lead her over to perch on the table in front of Nate, settling there with a little wriggle of her hips, rolling her dress slowly up over her knees. The whole room gawked, Nate included, as she parted her legs, sliding one silken thigh from beneath the scarlet fabric. 

Hancock reached into his pocket and pulled out the little tin, popping it open and shaking a pill into his hand, crushing it against the lid and grinding it fine with his fingertips, then tipped it carefully onto her skin, shaking it into a mound and scraping it into a thin line with his nail.

He stepped back and gestured to Nate.

“Ladies first.” 

Nate looked at Magnolia, eyebrows raised. She nodded.

“Go on, sugar. I don't bite.”

Nate swiped his hair from his eyes, the dim room swimming slightly as he stood, and he stepped over to her, moving smoothly between her thighs. _Christ she smells good_. She stroked his arm affectionately, and he bent, resting one hand delicately inside her hip, pinching shut his nostril, pressing to her skin – _Jesus _Christ_, she smells good_ \- and snorted the line like a professional. 

He sniffed and planted a gentle kiss on her bare skin, and she caught his chin with one long, manicured finger, pulling his face close to hers, then swiped the remaining thin trail of dust from her skin and pushed her warm, soft finger into his mouth, rubbing it against his gums and clasping her other hand at the back of his neck. 

He closed his eyes, tipped his head back and shuddered; the drug fizzed and burned in his throat, and the cloud of alcohol cleared, like sun after a storm, the air bright and white in his chest, the dim light haloing around the lamps and candles about the room.

_You've got your eyes shut, jackass. _

_Huh. Yeah._

_This is the good shit._

Nate sat down, slowly, grinning, leaning heavily on the table, and Magnolia pressed her hands against his shoulders, leaning in and speaking quietly to him. 

“Take it easy now, sweet thing. It's awful hard to keep up with John. Don't let him lead you too far astray. You're far too pretty to waste on chems. ”

He laughed, fumbling for his beer, and opened his eyes, looking around – Heather had relocated, and was hanging in the mayor's lap, MacCready was stretched out, legs hanging off the end of the sofa. Nate looked at Magnolia, setting on hand on her knee, stroking her skin - god it felt good, so soft and clean – his fingers slipped under the hem of her dress, she smiled, and he raised the bottle up to his mouth.

A hand on his shoulder – he paused, turned, slowly refocusing, and Piper stood there, glaring at him, almost baring her teeth.

“Don't you think you've had enough?”

He swallowed, winding the words to the front of his tongue, dropping his hand to his own knee. Mac and Hancock jeered like kids at a football game.

“Aw, baby, don't be like that.” 

He shrugged her away with a playful roll of his arm, took her wrist and tugged her gently towards him. Magnolia slipped off the table, swinging her legs down elegantly, and sat near Hancock. MacCready snickered from the corner.

“C'mere,” Nate beckoned, pulling Piper to his side, speaking softly, trying to calm her “I was wondering where'd you... where you'd gone. John's a good host, y'know, he got you anothe-... another beer while you were powdering your nose.”

She sighed through gritted teeth. 

"Yeah, well I can see that activity isn't limited to the ladies' room this evening. You missed a spot.”

She thumbed roughly at his top lip, wiping away a conspicuous crumb of powder and brushing it away against her coat. 

Nate slid his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him, and she pulled away, nodding her head at the doorway. He stood up, shrugged cartoonishly at the room, drawing another peal of laughter from MacCready, and Piper waited, arms crossed, in the corridor. 

Nate trotted after her and leaned against the doorframe, leaning one elbow high against the wood, slouching slightly, hooking his other thumb into his belt, his shirt untucking from his pants and flashing a seam of the pale, white skin of his belly. She rolled her eyes.

“You can cut that out. You're already in the doghouse, flirting isn't going to save you. In fact it'd do you well to learn when to stop flirting.”

He shrugged, his face apologetic. _Oh, she's mad. Ah shit_.

“We're just playing around, Piper. No one means anything by it, it's just... y'know.”

He shrugged again. _Nice. Convincing_,

Piper sighed.

“That's rich, Nate. You think this little afterparty isn't aimed squarely at you doing the dirty with everyone in that room? You're dumber than you look.”

Nate raised his eyebrows.

“Dumber'n I look, huh? Looking dumb never stopped you from “doin' the dirty” with me, why the change of heart?”

“Because I don't wanna watch Bobby MacCready struggle with his adolescent little hard-on, while you and Hancock play “tag” with Magnolia and that other girl.”

He reached out to take her waist in his hand, pulling her close, that little, slinking smile playing at his lips.

“Getting jealous honey?” He kissed her hair, whispering, “_Who said you gotta watch_?”

She slapped his hand away, and he raised his eyebrows, scratched the back of his head awkwardly, looking at the floor.

“So uh... you don't wanna-”

“Ugh, get a grip, Blue.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes and turning to leave. 

_What the fuck are you playing at? What was that? You gonna win her round with- oh fuck_.

Nate caught her arm, pulling her back.

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding...” He looked at her earnestly, “but baby I haven't seen Bobby for a fucking age, let alone had any time to relax together. Look, he's having fun, I'm having fun, and we agreed, tonight would be-”

“Yeah, _you_ and _him_, not you and him and every other floozy in the bar.”

“Piper, that was shitty. Mags isn-”

“I wasn't talking about Magnolia. At least she's got her head screwed on, even if she is looking for a piece of you. But while we're on the subject, I don't appreciate you touching her like that.”

Nate's head felt heavy, he rolled his head back and looked at her, trying to focus.

“Like what?” 

“_Like what_? Like with your hands up her skirt, that's what. Bobby might be into watching you with someone else, but he's a sleazy little jerk.”

“Piper,” Nate dropped his arms to his sides, straightening up, anger bursting distantly in his chest. “that's enough.”

She sighed, heavily.

“Nate, I'm tired, I wanna go home. And you, you're skirting the edge here - d'you even know how much you've taken tonight? Do you even know what you've taken tonight?"

"I've taken more bullets this week than chems. I'm alright, Piper, just let me unwind."

He smiled at her, reassuringly. She wasn't convinced.

"Are you alright though? You don't look okay, and if you're telling me that-"

He sighed, looking at the ceiling. 

"I ain't a kid, Piper. I don't need you to ration it out for me."

She balled her fists at her side. 

_Great job, dickhead. Just let her go home, cool off, make it up to her_. 

"Okay.” she nodded, “Okay be that way. I guess I'll come by in the morning and clean you off the fucking floor.”

He looked at her, big blue eyes shining and pupils wide, but said nothing. There wasn't anything to say. She swallowed, and shook her head in resignation.

“Fine. Do your thing, doesn't look like I'm gonna stop you.”

She grunted and pushed past him, back to the main bar. 

Nate stood still, watching her walk away, laughter echoing from the room beside him - MacCready giggling hysterically and Hancock intoning something about “the biggest fucking one you ever saw” to the delight of the small crowd. Piper didn't look back.

Fuck.

He watched her leave, storming up the stairs, almost chewing a cigarette, her eyes blazing. She looked like she was gonna cry. _Fuck_.

He stepped back into the VIP room, kicking MacCready's legs aside, dropping onto the sofa beside him, curling an arm around his waist.

“I assume that went as well as possible?” MacCready raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. Swell. Fucking peachy.” 

Mac stroked his leg.

“Let her sleep it off man,” He shook his head, smiling. “Lucy used to get that way, but... well I don't know about you, but I'm not fit to negotiate the panties off a whore right now. Wouldn't recommend attempting a make-up-make-out tonight, my man.” 

Nate sighed.

“Yeah. Yeah you're right.” 

He reached into Mac's pocket, feeling for the pack of stale cigarettes that usually lived there.

“You'll only blow it.” He grinned, “And to be honest, I'd rather you blow _me_.”

“You little fucking horndog.” Nate smiled and ruffled Mac's hair, kissed his temple. 

“Can't help it, I got the best looking guy in the commonwealth buying my beer and rummaging in my pockets. In public, no less.”

Nate looked at him, his eyes lingering on the merc's thin, pink mouth.

“You like that huh?”

He squeezed MacCready's thigh, dangerously close to his junk, and Mac wriggled.

Nate smiled.

“You think this is fun, just you wait, son. Just you wait.”

*

It had all happened so fast, it was almost impossible to figure out who'd said what, and who'd asked who, but the whole ragged bunch of them had tumbled into the state house, and up the stairs, and into the bedroom, all arms around waists and hands fumbling with buttons and mouths on bare skin. Magnolia was enchanting, her dark hair hanging in Nate's face as he stumbled back against a table, her body pressed close against him, Heather and Hancock busy pressing Mac up against the wall and working over every inch of his bare, skinny torso. MacCready's pants dropped to the floor and he coughed nervously, Heather's laugh tinkling like a bell as she murmured sweetness against his hip.

Magnolia's voice sang softly against Nate's ear.

“That your boy over there, getting ravaged by those animals?”

Nate ran his hands up her hips, breathing heavily, trying to look at her as she bent to kiss his throat. He laughed languidly.

“Yeah. Quite a catch, huh?”

Mags smiled, her mouth soft on his jaw. Everything felt like cotton wool.

“Yeah, he's cute, but we've, uh, met before. And I'm adventurous girl. I like a change. A challenge.”

Her hand slid down to his crotch, toying with his belt. He shuffled, leaning his hands back on the table, a flurry of action in the front of his pants as his dick got the message.

“And you, you look like a challenge to me.” She whispered, “A real puzzle. But I'm a smart cookie.”

Her hand slipped into his pants, and all his nerves burst to life under her fingers, hard-on nudging against her through his underpants.

“What do you say, General, wanna let me take a look at your pieces? See if I can't figure out what goes where...”

She dipped her mouth to his stomach, tugging his pants open, and he pushed a hand into her hair, rolling his head back, breathless, eyes closing as she pulled his dick into her mouth. 

_Oh fuck, her mouth..._

He bunched his fingers in the back of her hair, breath hissing through his teeth. He opened his eyes, hazily focused on Mac; across the room still pinned to the wall, Heather bent double, going to town on his hard cock with her mouth, Hancock lifting her dress from behind and pushing his hips against her ass, and she moaned as he slid inside her.

Nate giggled. Oh boy he was high. He called out breathlessly to MacCready.

“Mac – hey, Mac? Bobby! Hey!”

MacCready ignored him.

Nate's voice dropped.

“Oh, you better not be ignoring me.”

MacCready flipped him the bird, eyes closed, head tipped back to the sky.

Nate laughed.

“You're gonna regret that, son.”

He looked down at Mags, mimed a kiss, and pushed her off of him, gently, hitching his pants back up over his junk. She watched him like a cat, head tilted and hands resting on the strap of her dress. Nate strode across the room and up to MacCready.

“You think you're a wiseguy, huh?”

Mac laughed, eyes still conspicuously screwed shut. Hancock stopped what he was doing, looked between them, mouth curled into a mean smile, and Heather slowed her mouth, looking up sideways at Nate.

“Last chance, son.”

MacCready ignored him.

Nate grabbed his ear, twisting it and dragging him across the room, like a disobedient schoolboy, Mac yelping and laughing, stumbling with his pants around his knees, the others standing frozen, mouths agape. Nate threw MacCready across the bed, pushing his head down into the mattress, kneeling heavily on the back of his thighs.

“You think you're gonna disrespect me in front of people? Think I'm gonna let you humiliate me, huh?”

He tugged MacCready's hair, jerking his head to the side.

“Say you're sorry, Bobby, or you are in deep shit.”

“Nuh-uh!” MacCready stuck out his tongue, laughing, and Nate bit back a smile, tugging harder, leaning close to his ear.

“I won't ask you again.”

“_Blow me, mungo_.”

Nate cracked his hand sharply against MacCready's bare ass, and Mac made a muffled sound, teeth gritted together. Nate smacked him harder, and he grunted, biting his lip, red flush rising on the peak of his ass. Hancock laughed, slinging his arm around Heather's waist, pushing her against the wall, reaching around to take hold of her throat. Magnolia sat back, eyes wide, taking in everything, watching MacCready as Nate slapped him again, and again, and MacCready laughed and yelled and cursed into the bed. 

Nate focused intently, watching MacCready's muscles twitch and tense, revelling in the sounds pouring out of him. Suddenly he fell silent, shoulders hitching and Nate paused, bending low to MacCready's ear.

“You sorry yet, you little shit?” 

MacCready's breath juddered out of him, tears running down his cheeks, staining the bedsheets. 

_Shit that is hot, his eyes all red like that, he looks so soft, so... vulnerable. _

Nate swallowed, feeling more than a little guilty. 

“Bobby?”

MacCready nodded quietly.

“_Yes papa. I'm sorry.”_

Nate knelt beside him, whistled through his teeth, stroking his hair softly, speaking low. 

“It's okay. It's alright. You okay Bobby?”

Mac nodded, wiping his face with the back of his hand, his cheeks bright red with shame.

“Yeah. I'm... I'm good. I, uh...”

He sat up, leaned his head against Nate's, closing his eyes, laughing quietly, wrapping an arm around his neck, and whispered in Nate's ear.

“_You son of a bitch, you made me come_.”


	5. Feet, shotgun, biting, daddy kink - Nate/MacCready/Hancock/Magnolia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follows on directly from the last one!

MacCready pressed his face against Nate's neck, and Nate embraced him softly, the merc's heart fluttering against his chest, his lips resting warmly beneath Nate's ear, puckering into the smallest of kisses and breathing deep against his pulse. Nate held him for a long moment, letting MacCready cool against his skin, stroking a hand across his hair, and Magnolia slipped onto the bed beside them, tracing her long fingers down Nate's back, resting her other hand on MacCready's shoulder.  
Mac looked up at her through heavy eyelids, his body ringing with endorphins, and he smiled sleepily, curling into Nate's shoulder. Magnolia leaned forward, her voice soft and low, and spoke quietly in his ear.  
  
“You mind if I borrow your _daddy_ for a while? “  
  
Mac flushed red again, laughing quietly, nervously.  
  
“Uh, heh, sure, just... You weren't supposed to hear that. Don't, uh, don't let it get around okay?”  
  
Magnolia drew her finger to her lips, then kissed the merc's mouth gently.  
  
“Secret's safe with me sugar. You know I don't kiss and tell.”  
  
MacCready untangled his small frame from Nate's arms, flopping back on the bed with a satisfied sigh, slinging his arm across his face. He grimaced, and looked down, a cold, wet smear of cum on his leg.  
  
“Ah, nuts.”  
  
Mac pulled the sheets around himself, trying to wipe it away, giving up and laying sprawled on the mattress, closing his eyes. Nate laughed, sliding from the bed, and Mags took his hand, and tugged him to her, leaning back against the table where they'd come together earlier. He took her waist in his hands, distantly aware of Hancock's voice growling something low and mean, Heather squeaking softly and sighing his name, but Nate was too wrapped up in his immediate need to pay attention.  
  
Magnolia's dress wrinkled in his hands, the firm swell of her hips under his fingers, and he slid his hands up, and up, pulling her dress up high above her thighs, and nudging her thighs apart with his knee, and she tipped her head back and let his mouth feast on the soft, white skin of her neck, and shoulders, down her collarbone, his hands cupping her breasts roughly. He caught the strap of her dress in his teeth, tugged it down from her shoulder, and slid the fabric down away from her skin, his mouth dragging hot kisses across her breast, his tongue flicking across her hard, pink nipple.  
  
She moaned and ran a hand through his hair; his dick throbbed in his pants, and one hand left her skin to free himself. Mags tugged roughly at his waistband as he fumbled at the front of his pants, eventually sliding them down to his knees, and pushing her up, lifting her ass onto the table, grinding his dick against the front of her wet panties.  
  
“_Shit_, honey, you're so wet...”  
  
He mumbled into her neck, and she purred against his ear.  
  
“You think I could watch you spank the fight outta your boy there and be any other way...”  
  
Her voice dropped to a silken whisper,  
  
“..._papa?_”  
  
He groaned and bit his lip, pushing up hard against her, and she wriggled and wrapped her legs around him, crossing her ankles at the small of his back. His fingers worked under the elastic of her panties, pulling them aside, and he pushed the head of his cock against her wet pussy, and she sighed, squeezing her thighs around his waist. He squeezed her hip, thumb stretching her panties aside, and kissed her, her mouth like sweet gold and cherry bombs and warm, wet moonlight, and he moved his hips slowly, sliding into her, and her pussy was just about the best goddamn thing in the world.  
  
She lay back on the table drawing her leg up against his shoulder, and he pressed his face into her knee, grabbing her ankle, thumb stroking gently against the sole of her foot. She shivered and stretched her toes, Nate grinned against her skin – _gotcha – _and pressed harder, dragging his mouth down the soft skin of her calf, folding her knee until her foot was against his shoulder, and he shut his eyes, kissed her heel, the arch of her sole, thrusting his hips and clinging to her tightly. Mags called out, gasping his name, and his stomach tightened – _Shit, his name sounded good in her mouth,_ and he wrapped his fingers gently between her toes, grinning against her skin as she bucked her hips and ran her hands down her body, squeezing her tits and dropping one hand to her circle her clit. He groaned and pulled out of her, dropping to his knees and burying his face in her, his tongue making long, think strokes and flicking fast over the sensitive little bunch of nerves, sucking and circling and rolling against her, and she sighed, arching her back off the table, gripping his hand at her hip with tight, white fingers.  
  
A rough hand dropped to his shoulder, Nate's eyes flicked open and Hancock winked at him, running his other hand up the inside of Magnolia's thigh. He was still wearing that fucking coat and hat.  
  
“Mind if I join ya?”  
  
He dropped to his knees beside Nate, spreading Magnolia's legs wide, kissing the join of her hips, and running his hand down Nate's arm. Nate rocked back on his heels and watched Hancock go to town – guy was a professional, running little nibbles up the inside of her thigh, licking broad strokes across her pussy, sliding hid fingers into her at _just _the right moment, and she squealed. Nate kissed her ankle, moving his mouth slowly along the top of her foot, the skin thin and soft and shining white, pausing with her toe pressed against his bottom lip, his breath pouring hot over the cold skin.  
  
In a moment of doubt, he hesitated there – _she's into this, right? She doesn't think I'm doing this for me – _then shook the thought away and parted his lips, letting her push into his mouth, and he sucked gently. She rolled her hips and grabbed the edge of the table, shuddering with pleasure and moaning low as she came, Hancock working his magic with his tongue against her pussy.  
__  
Yeah, she's into it.   
  
Nate sat back, stroking his dick slowly, and Hancock let her buck against his mouth for a long, long while, eventually pulling away with a little smack of his lips, patting her thigh and laughing smugly. He turned to Nate, black eyes shining.  
  
“You want a little pick me up? Look like you're starting to flag.”  
  
He gestured at Nate's dick, and Nate laughed, shrugged, and nodded.  
  
“Sure. Why the hell not.”  
  
Hancock reached into his pocket and offered up the little red canister. Nate reached for it, and Hancock drew it back, taking a long, slow huff, holding it, beckoning Nate forward, clasping the sides of his face and pressing their mouths together, blowing the soft, bitter fumes into Nate's mouth, his tongue like red leather pressing against Nate's teeth, the taste of Magnolia's cunt still fresh on his lips. Nate took it, inhaling, and the room swam gloriously, he could feel the weight of the blood in his veins, the air in his lungs, and god, everything was hazy and beautiful. Hancock's teeth pressed sharp and mean, clamping Nate's lip until it bled, and the shiver of pain rocked through him, hot ecstasy and twinging nerves.  
  
He pulled back, gasping for air, dabbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. Hancock smiled, licking his teeth.  
  
“There, there sunshine, you'll still be pretty in the morning. Can't have you getting too big for your boots, is all.”  
  
He flicked his hat.  
  
“Remember who's the boss around here.”  
  
Nate reeled, nodding, sat on his ass on the cold floor. Hancock crawled forward, neatly lifting himself over the knot of Nate's pants around his ankles, and ducked his head down, sucking Nate's cock into his hot mouth. Nate shut his eyes, grabbing the back of Hancock's head, leaning on his elbow and tipping his face to the ceiling as Hancock got to work on him. Nate sighed loudly, blowing the air from his cheeks like a storm.  
__  
Jesus, the ghoul could give head. Holy fuck, _he was good, his mouth was so hot, and hollow, little needles of teeth that just graced the sensitive skin, and that tongue..._  
Nate opened his eyes; Mags was on the bed, with Heather, both of them straddling MacCready's chest. If the merc had dozed off earlier, he was wide awake now, his eyes wide and his dick hard, watching the girls take their time over each other's mouths. Heather shuffled back, her ass about covering MacCready's face and he laughed, and shuffled down the bed, pulling her pussy to his mouth, as Magnolia slid herself onto his erection.  
  
Nate's insides crunched up, his eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned loud, Hancock's fingertips pressing carefully into his asshole. He spread his knees, and Hancock grinned, speaking low, lips still pressed against the head of his dick;  
  
“You like that, dontcha? You're just about gonna come all over me... Watching your boy get it from two of my best girls – make you jealous sunshine? You gettin' all possessive?”  
  
Nate laughed sheepishly, Hancock resumed his work, rolling his tongue against the head of Nate's dick. Heather's voice, high and sweet, moaned MacCready's name, and she caught Nate's eye, smiled warmly, her cheeks flushed and pink. Nate grinned.  
  
“Go easy on him, honey, he's not as much of a man as he thinks he is.”  
  
Hancock laughed around Nate's dick, and Heather flicked her hair back, grinding her hips down on MacCready's mouth.  
  
“Sure feels like plenty of a man from here.”  
  
Mac flipped him the bird from beneath the two women, and Nate winked at Heather, blew her a kiss, and she actually blushed. _God she's a sweet thing, ain't she_? _Gonna get ruined hanging around here, one of us will see to that for sure; absolutely fucking ruined and loving every second of - _  
  
He lost his thought as Hancock pulled wetly off his dick, gesturing to the bed;  
  
“Wanna help me show her what a real man feels like?”  
  
Nate laughed, sitting up and tugging off his boots at last, shimmying out of his pants and rolling to his feet. Hancock stripped off his coat and unbuckled his belt again, smacking Heather's ass and rolling her off MacCready. He groaned, and she twirled to face him, planting a kiss on his wet mouth, the short hairs of his beard wet with her taste. He licked his lips ostentatiously, and she laughed and sat in Hancock's lap on the edge of the bed, and Mags leaned forward, shuddering on MacCready's chest, and he pistoned his hips up into her, tongue caught between his teeth in pleasure and concentration. Heather beckoned to Nate, grabbing his hips and tugging his dick, laughing as his balls jerked in time with her hand, and he ran a hand into her hair and kissed her cheek as Hancock drove her over the edge and she pressed her face against his belly, mouth slack and breath panting a fluttering melody.

Nate shivered; he was close, real close, close enough that her tight little hand was gonna finish him off, and he pulled away softly, sitting down on the mattress, taking a deep breath. _Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. _  
  
Mags and Heather had curled together on the bed, legs wrapping around one another, kissing slowly, fingers playing in each other's hair. MacCready's body still pressed against Magnolia's back, he ran his hand up and down her waist, kissing the back of her neck, and Hancock caught Nate's attention.  
  
“Think your boy would mind if you shared him a little?”  
  
Nate rolled to MacCready's side, heart hammering, laying his hand gently on the merc's ass, whispering in his ear.  
  
“Hey, Bobby, I got a little question for you.”  
  
MacCready's head tipped back, his eyes still shut.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Do you love your daddy?”  
  
Mac flushed red, laughing. 

“Nate, man, let up, I'm trying to be the one in charge here.”  
  
“Looks like they've had their fill, if you ask me. So are you gonna answer me? Do you love your daddy?”  
  
Mac groaned, his mouth curling into a smile despite his best efforts. Nate's fingers trailed up his back. He could feel the weight of the room watching him, and fuck, it kinda turned him on.  
  
“Yeah, I guess I do.”  
  
“You guess?”  
  
“Okay, okay, yeah, daddy, I love you.”  
  
Nate nodded, kissing MacCready's ear softly.  
  
“Do you, uh, do you feel like being a special boy for papa?”  
  
MacCready's shoulders shuddered, nerves zipping up his spine under Nate's fingers.  
  
“What... what d'you mean _special_, papa? Is it gonna hurt?”  
  
Nate's stomach twisted – he'd never quite get over the guilt of that feeling, having MacCready's nervous body and fragile trust in his hands, asking softly _is it gonna hurt? _and lying through his teeth:  
  
“No, baby, it won't hurt. I need you to be a good boy though, and listen carefully.”  
  
Nate shivered, clenching his shoulders, reaching his hand around to MacCready's dick.  
  
“Papa's got a friend here, honey, and I told him how much of a good boy you are for me. Do you think you could show him, Bobby? Think you can show him how good you are?”  
  
MacCready whispered, his voice frightened and small.  
  
“Does he love me like you do, daddy?”  
  
Nate flinched, a wave of disgust at himself sweeping over him.  
__  
That fucking voice, Bobby, I told you to quit with the fucking...  
  
He sighed.  
  
“Yes baby, he loves you too.” his voice dropped lower, stern and breaking character. “But what have I told you about talking to daddy like that, you spoiled little brat.”  
  
MacCready laughed.  
  
“Sorry, sorry, it's just... you're too good at it.”  
  
He swallowed, grinning.  
  
“_Daddy_.”


	6. Praise kink - Preston/Sturges

"Nice shootin', Tex!"  
  
Nate slapped Preston's shoulder, swinging his rifle to his back, crouching to stuff the raider's few useful possessions into his pack.  
  
“Right through the bastard. You're not just a pretty face after all.”  
  
Preston rolled his eyes, but he could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks.  
  
“No sir, not at all. I leave that to those better equipped for the job.”  
  
“Nonsense, Garvey. That last place, Tenpines? Gal there at the gate was _more _than interested. Shame that you're a... confirmed bachelor, and all. She was pretty.”  
  
“A what now?”  
  
Nate stood up, grinning.  
  
“Confirmed bachelor. A man who's not, uh, interested in getting married. For his own reasons. Usually another man.”  
  
“Oh.” Preston sighed. “I guess that's...”  
  
“Between you and me,” Nate leaned in towards him, “I don't think she was looking to marry you.”  
  
Preston laughed, blushing.  
  
“Well, with all due respect, sir, one of us has got to keep his pants on.”  
  
Nate laughed, and set off down the trail.  
  
“You ever let yourself live a little Garvey, you come my way, okay?”  
  
Preston shook his head muttering. “I don't think I could keep up with you, even if I was as, uh, motivated, as you are.”  
  
Nate shrugged and called over his shoulder.  
  
“Suit yourself.”  
  
  
*  
  
  
The road back to sanctuary was shorter with company, for sure, and with Concord almost picked clean, it wouldn't belong before the town was up and running to rival Diamond City. Sturges was hard at work, slaving over a refrigerator out back of Mama Murphy's place, and he dropped his tools, wiping his hands on his overalls as the two men approached.  
  
“Well if it ain't the boys in blue. Brought me anything good?”  
  
Preston dropped a duffel bag to the floor, it clanged and rolled to one side, and Nate tossed his pack to Sturges.  
  
“Fill your boots, buddy, quite a haul today. Not much left except the roof tiles. Definitely enough to get that water pump up and running again. _With_ power this time.”  
  
Nate rolled his shoulders, stretching them out now he was free of his pack.  
  
“Your man here sure knows his way around that musket.”  
  
Sturges caught Preston's eye, and smiled.  
  
“He sure does. Few other things to boot.”  
  
Preston looked at the floor, ignoring the comment. Sturges winked, and Nate chuckled and nodded his head towards the rest of the town.  
  
“You seen Piper around anywhere? Not to be crude, but I could use a little R&R, and, well, we got some catching up to do.”  
  
Sturges smiled broadly and nodded. “Yeah, last I saw her she was hovering around that Vault-Tec guy, mouth going a mile a minute. You'd be doing him a favour if you found her something else to do.”  
  
Nate smiled wickedly. “With her mouth? I'm sure I can think of something.”  
  
They laughed, and he saluted the two men vigorously, and sauntered away to find Piper.  
  
Sturges looked at Preston, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“He sure is in a good mood, huh? Almost feel bad for that girl.”  
  
Preston nodded, almost rolling his eyes.  
  
“He's... he thinks... he's got it into his head that I'm some sort of prude, all because there was a woman in Tenpines Bluff giving me the eye. And I wasn't interested.”  
  
Sturges leaned against the wall, close to Preston, dusting off the man's shoulder with one hand.  
  
“A prude, huh? And am I to take it you didn't tell him otherwise? You ashamed'a me or somethin'?”  
  
Preston shook his head, laying his hand on Sturges' broad waist.  
  
“Not at all, babe. It just didn't seem right to... lay it all bare like that, just to get him off my case. He's only teasing.”  
  
“Of course he is. I don't think you got anything to worry about with him, Preston. Saw him out back of the bar with that mercenary not two weeks past, and unless “hired gun” meant somethin' else pre-war, they were gettin' a lot closer than what I'd call professional.”  
  
Preston hummed thoughtfully.  
  
“Yeah, you're probably right.”  
  
“No probably about it, sugar; he was on his knees in the mud, and that gunner boy ain't exactly quiet.”  
  
Preston blushed.  
  
“Oh. Well.”  
  
Sturges leaned close to his face, sweeping the lieutenant's hat back and drawing his thumb across Preston's cheek.  
  
“Can I get a little kiss now, or is that too much to ask?”  
  
Preston leaned forward, offering a chaste little peck on the corner of Sturges' mouth. He sighed, looking at Preston through raised eyebrows. Preston smiled and leaned in again, pressing their mouths together firmly, Sturges running a calloused hand around the back of Preston's neck and holding him tight. They pulled apart, and Sturges untucked a rag from his back pocket, wiped a smear of grease from Preston's chin.  
  
“See? Once you get past the oil, I ain't that bad.”  
  
“No, babe,” Preston shook his head, smiling softly, “you ain't.”  
  
  
*  
  
  
The night rolled in thick and fast, and Sturges curled next to Garvey's warmth, on the sofa inside their little room in the bunkhouse. The town was quiet, the lights out in most houses and the soft puttering of generators and turrets chirped through the air like stiff nocturnal birds.  
  
Sturges pushed a hand into the folds of his pocket, pulled out a little scrap of paper, examining it in the lamp light. He tugged a pencil out of the front of his overall and licked the tip, scribbling little check marks against a scrawled list, and Preston leaned his head against the mechanic's shoulder.  
  
“You just never rest, do you babe?”  
  
Sturges smiled, squeezing Preston close.  
  
“Can't, can I? Not when you work so damned hard all the time.”  
  
“Not much I can do about that, there's always someone who needs help.”  
  
Sturges shifted to face him.  
  
“It don't always have to be you that saves 'em, y'know. You ain't hardly around here anymore,” He feigned a little sob, “I been getting real lonely without you. “

Preston chuckled, kissing Sturges on the cheek.  
  
“I miss you too, y'know, but we've gotta keep going. The commonwealth isn't gonna fix itself.”  
  
Sturges sighed.  
  
“You're too damn good for this world.”  
  
He settled his hand on Preston's thigh, and let his own knees fall wide apart.  
  
“Maybe you could spend a little time fixin' me? I'm getting' kinda tired of being the...” he paused, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “...the handyman around here. Could use a second pair of hands.”  
  
“I can go one better, babe.” Preston laughed, sliding from the sofa, kneeling between Sturges' feet.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Sturges pressed his feet to the cold floor, wrapping his hands behind Preston's head and stroking the back of his neck, as the man pulled his mouth slowly up the length of Sturges' dick, sucking softly around the head and letting it slide from his mouth. Sturges shuddered, and Preston smiled, planting a little kiss on the inside of his thigh, climbing carefully onto his lap. Sturges whispered against his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.  
  
“Goddamn it sugar, I'm a lucky man.”  
  
He pushed his hips forward, teasing with the head of his dick pressed up against Preston's ass.  
  
“And you're the most beautiful thing I ever saw.”  
  
Preston blushed, Sturges continued.  
  
“Beautiful, _and_ talented, and brave to boot. Where'd I get off, hitting the jackpot huh?”  
  
He buried his face in Preston's neck, bright warmth against his lips as Preston blushed harder.  
  
“Tell me how pretty you are, sugar, and I'll give it to you.”  
  
“Babe, don't make-”  
  
“C'mon, I'm asking nicely. Be good for me huh? Tell me how pretty you are.”  
  
Preston laughed, shaking his head.  
  
“Okay, you think I'm pretty. There, let me have it.”  
  
He ground down on Sturges' dick, and the mechanic pulled his hips back.  
  
“N'aw, that doesn't count, come on,” he squeezed Preston's hips, “you gotta tell me like you mean it.”  
  
Preston rolled his eyes, and shuffled nervously, wrapping his arms around Sturges' neck.  
  
“Babe, this isn't fair.”  
  
Sturges shook his head.  
  
“Just tell me, and it's all yours.”  
  
Sturges pushed his hips forward to emphasise the point; Preston leaned his face on Sturges' shoulder, groaning, rocking his hips slowly.  
  
“Mmm, _okay...” _he whispered, “I'm... pretty.”  
  
“That's right sugar, now say it again.”  
  
His dick was hard against Preston's ass, and his hand stroked slowly along Preston's dick.  
  
“I'm... _pretty_.” he mouthed breathlessly, Sturges' hand rough and tight around his sensitive skin.  
  
“Keep goin', baby...”  
  
Sturges pushed up into him in a slow, fluid movement, arching his hips off the sofa and closing his eyes for a second. Preston was tight, and Sturges moved slowly.  
  
“...you're pretty on top of me.”  
  
Preston gasped – this wasn't gonna take long, the hard length of Sturges' cock pushing deep into his ass, the hand wrapped in his hair, the hot flush of embarrassment across his face and chest.  
  
“I'm.... pretty, on top of you.” he mumbled.  
  
“And you're pretty around my dick.”  
  
Preston blushed harder, Sturges found his rhythm, pleasure rolling through them both in a warm wave.  
  
“_I'm pretty around your dick_...”  
  
“And you're pretty with it in your mouth.”  
  
“_I'm pretty with it in my mouth...”_  
  
“And you're pretty with it in your ass.”  
  
“_I'm pretty... unh- pretty with it... in... oh go...in my ass.”_  
  
Sturges hand moved faster around Preston's dick, wet and warm and tugging him firmly, rough fingers tight below the head, and it felt _good, oh, so good. _His face was warm, and Sturges kissed the redness of his cheeks.__  
  
“Oh, baby, does it feel good?”__  
  
Preston nodded, quietly.__  
  
"You're so pretty when you're blushing.”  
  
Preston laughed  
  
“_Babe, _c'mon_, _give me a break_...”_  
  
“Say it sugar. I wanna hear you say it.”  
  
Preston grit his teeth and screwed his eyes shut.  
  
“..._I'm pretty when I'm blushing.”_  
  
Sturges kissed him, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and pulling gently, sending nerves sparkling through Preston's body, then pressed his face back to Preston's neck, concentrating on his hips, bucking and thrusting into him, eager and close to the edge.  
  
“You're so pretty when you're getting _fucked_, darlin'.”  
  
“_I'm pretty when I'm gett- unh, yeah – when I'm getting fucked. Oh, babe, right there!”_  
  
His hands clasped hard on Sturges shoulders, Preston's guts clenched, the rolling, twitching pleasure in him building to a climax, his ass full and Sturges deep inside him,and his hand felt _so, so good, wrapped so tight, and- and-_  
  
“You gonna come, sugar? You know I like to watch you come for me.” His hips thrust up hard, Preston melting against his hot skin, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Sturges whispered.  
“You know you're just... so... pretty... when you...”  
  
Preston cried out, his orgasm breaking over him, Sturges voice in his ear, warm, white cum spilling across the mechanic's tight, rough hand, and he curled up, knees pressed under Sturges' shoulders. Sturges held him tight, cooing in his ear what a _pretty, pretty sight_ he was, but didn't stop; steady, measure thrusts giving way to hitching, bucking curls of his hips, and Preston's soft, muffled, sounds in his ear, and the sticky, warm wetness of Preston's cum running slowly down onto his dick, and that was _it, _he slammed up into Preston and came undone, gritting his teeth, eyes closed, holding his breath, letting a little puff of air escape his mouth, holding Preston silently as he filled his ass with cum.  
  
He shuddered, and looked at Preston, their eyes meeting, soft and satisfied, still wrapped together.  
  
“Dammit, sugar, we don't gotta leave it so long next time.”  
  



	7. Blood/Gore - Dixie/Nate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean it's in the title, but obvious content note for serious bodily harm, gore, non-con stuff, general badness.

The room swam into focus; dark, dusty, a wooden shack and a dim lamp on the table beside him. Nate strained against the dim light. Beyond, the shack floor disappeared into ramshackle stairs, atop what looked like... the roof of a factory? And rocky outcrops – some kind of bunker in a cave? The sharp smell of blood and sweat and metal in the air.  
  
Nate rolled his head to the side, foggy and half aware, and was met with a sharp, shooting pain lancing through his head, his neck, his shoulder. His mouth tasted like blood and his nose was swollen and aching, his vision blurred around it. He raised his hand to his face – tried to raise his hand to his face; his shoulder screamed at the movement, and his hands filled with ragged prickling sensation. He moved slowly, looking down at his them. Bound with tape and cuffed to a long chain stretching from the wall behind him. _What the fuck?_  
  
“Ahh, you're back. Dixie said you'd be out for a while. A shame really...”  
  
He turned slowly to the voice, bones in his shoulder grinding as he turned his head. A soft hand swept the side of his face, and pressed lightly at the bridge of his nose, pain flaring across his vision.  
  
“... I bet you'd have sung such a pretty song when she busted your nose.”  
  
Nate's voice came thick as he tried to speak.  
  
“Where the fuck... wh-”  
  
“You're in Disciple territory now. Gage might've taken a liking to you, but I can tell you that _we _are not so easily impressed. And that your reputation precedes you... _General.”_  
  
Nate looked up, gritting his teeth, at the woman towering over him. A steel visor, razor winged and blankly inhuman, covered her face, and her slight frame wrapped in ragged leather armour. Nate tried to sit up, rolling carefully forward against the burning ache in his shoulder, pulling against the chain of his cuffs; the woman kicked him squarely in the chest, slamming him back to the floor with an agonised yell.  
  
“Stay where you are, dog. You'll move when I tell you. You must know who I am?”  
  
Nate heaved air into his lungs, his chest tight, ribs throbbing with pain, he rolled onto his side, curled double.  
  
“...Nisha.”  
  
She nodded, her boot pressed against his ribs. Nate mumbled against the floor.  
  
“What's... what d'you want?”  
  
She waved her hand.  
  
“Why, this. This is all one could ever ask for, no? A kingdom of one's own, a trusted cabal of worshippers, and a beautiful man bleeding at your feet, _begging_ for your attention.”  
  
She knelt beside him, curling the chain around her fist.  
  
“And I _am _paying attention. The gauntlet, Colter... but Gage is an idiot. And you, too, if you listen to his bullshit. Uniting the gangs, taking the park – there is no power in the other gangs like that of the Disciples, and we will make that known. You do not understand. Your charming smile, and flock of lambs bleating frightened behind you, weeping like children for a better life, you pander to their whims. Do you think that weakness like that is admirable?”  
  
She scraped her tongue with her teeth.  
  
“You come here, with weakness and pity, and claim the title Overboss?”  
  
She reared her head and spat in Nate's face, the spittle like a bullet, and Nate flinched and tucked his head behind his arms. His mind raced,  
  
“You do not belong here. You are a killer, perhaps, but you have no art, you have no dedication. You know nothing of suffering. So you must learn.”  
  
She pulled the chain, heaving Nate to his knees, and he cried out, his arms stretched tight above his head, tears breaking from his eyes and coursing his cheeks. Nisha wrapped the chain about a steel bar on the wall, suspending him prone, and walked to the doorway. Another masked figure entered the room beside her, and the pair turned to face Nate.  
  
“You will remember Dixie, I assume.” Nisha gestured to the other woman.  
  
Dixie rolled her hips and crossed the room, pinching Nate's jaw in her hand, pulling his face up to look at her, and lifted the mask, blond curls cascading across her shoulders, smiling sweetly at Nate.  
  
“Sure ya do, sweet thing.”  
  
Nate's stomach sank. _Oh fuck, the girl fro- she's with them, oh fu-_  
  
She squeezed his face, bending and planting a little kiss on his cheek, tracing the track of a tear with her tongue.  
  
“I'm the reason you got in all this trouble, ain't I?"  
  
She drew a skinny knife from her belt, stroking the point beneath Nate's chin in a jagged zig-zag. Nate's breath trembled through his teeth, the muscles of his throat held taut against the blade. Nisha nodded at Dixie, and she sat down on her knees in front of Nate, peeling his shirt open. Nisha hesitated at the door.  
  
“Overboss or not, you'll learn your lesson today. And you will either come out victorious, and fit for the ranks and your role, or you will suffer for nothing and cross us again, and you will die with your empathy and your “_old world charm_”.”  
  
She turned to Dixie.  
  
“Be gentle though, Dixie. I'm not looking to start a war over this.”  
  
“_Be gentle, Dixie,” _she mimicked under her breath. “You're a tough cookie, ain't ya? You can handle the rough stuff.”  
  
He looked up at her, eyes pleading, and she dragged her hand down his chest, and he hissed, sharp, pointed nails scoring his skin, drawing the faintest trail of blood. Dixie laughed.  
  
“Or maybe not.”  
  
She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
“Now I just don't know where to start with you, sugar bunch. I don't wanna do too much more damage to that handsome face a'yours – course I think you look better with a little bit of blood runnin' – but Gage and the others might not be too pleased if they can't recognise you later.”

"Dixie, please..." 

She pressed her finger to his lips and knelt in front of him, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pressing her forehead close to his, sighing sweetly through her nose.  
  
“Tell you what. Why don't we pick up a little after where we left off?”  
  
She kissed him, her tongue dancing lightly across the back of his teeth, sucked his bottom lip, dragged her tongue along the warm stream of blood from his nose, licked her lips.   
  
“My, you do taste good.”

Nate's voice gurgled in his throat. 

"Please, just listen... Just hear me out. I'm n- it wasn't meant to be... I wasn't trying to hurt you, I wa-" 

She hushed him gently, running one hand through the hair at his temple, clutching his face close to her breast, against the cold metal armour. 

"I know, sweetie. Maybe woulda been better for you if you were tryin' to hurt me, huh? You really do have a reputation y'know, made it all too easy to catch you with your pants down, so to speak."

She trailed her fingertips over the gash in his cheek, up to the fractured bridge of his nose, took his face gently in both hands, wriggling her hips in malicious, cat like focus, and leaned her thumbs hard into the fracture. Nate jerked backward, crying outwith the pain, and Dixie bit her lip, holding the pressure firm as he struggled.  
  
“Mmhmm, that's right. Hurts, don't it?”

Nate couldn't speak, pain throbbing thunderously across his face. Dixie let go, dropping her mouth back against his lips, whispering sweetly.  
  
“I can hurt you so, so much, sweetie. It'll be so beautiful. You'll scream, and cry, and beg... mmm, makes me wet just thinking about it.”  
  
She slid her hand over his hip, dragging her knife down his throat, and pushed her hand into the top of his pants, feeling around for his dick with cold fingers.  
  
“Dixie, _please_...” He whispered, his voice shaking, his pupils blown wide and black. Sharp, cold adrenaline rang loud through him, screaming, animal terror, and his throat closed up, and his heart slammed in his chest, and his mind blanked on everything but the desperate instinct to flee.   
  
“Mmm, just like that,” she purred against his mouth, sliding her knife back into her belt, one hand squeezing his dick. “You're so scared, sweet thing, I can just about taste your heartbeat.”  
  
Dixie slid down the front of his body, lay down on her stomach, ankles crossed, one hand propped under her chin, the other tugging his trousers down to his spread knees.  
  
“Let's take a look at you then, darlin'.”  
  
She pulled his dick out of his pants and held it flat against her palm, scrunching her mouth up thoughtfully.  
  
“Well, I sure seen bigger, but maybe you're a grower, huh?”  
  
He swallowed silently, and she wrapped her mouth around him, fingers gently caressing the inside of his thighs, and working over the tight, cold skin of his balls. He shuddered, and she sucked harder, and he clenched his teeth; his whole body screamed objection but there was nothing he could do to fight it, and his dick hardened in her mouth.  
  
She popped her mouth off of him, examining him closely, seemingly satisfied.  
  
“Yeah, you'll do.”  
  
She lifted her mouth to his pulse - loud, jarring pain burst from his shoulder and he screamed; in a split second she'd tugged a razor blade from her boot and jammed it into the flesh above Nate's collar bone. She jumped to her feet, cackling and rubbing her thighs together. Hot blood pooled around the blade and ran down his chest in a thin red torrent, and Dixie dropped her pants to the floor.

  
She pulled his head up, pressing her pussy to his face as he sobbed and choked, trying to hold his head still against the pain. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head back, and he squealed in agony and tugged against the chain. Dixie pulled the chain hard, sending another scalding shiver of pain through his shoulder.  
  
“Eat me, you fucking pussy.”  
  
Nate opened his mouth obediently, hitching and sobbing, and she ground against his outstretched tongue.  
  
“Yeah, baby, like that, lick it like you never tasted anything so good.”  
  
Nate buried his face into her, breath heaving and the cold shape of the blade digging into his muscle, the hideous _wrongness_ of the metal in his naked tissue making his stomach roll and heave. His head was spinning and he felt the edge of consciousness, black and inviting, and his body lolled loosely on the chain.  
  
Everything happened between bursts of blackness.  
  
Dixie knelt in front of him, pressed her hand to his chest.  
  
Her mouth at his stomach.  
  
Something soft pushed into his mouth. It tasted like her. 

A hard hand around his dick, a wave of sickening sensation.   
  
The knife pressed beneath his arm, dragged down his chest.  
  
Her tongue flicking against his nipple, rolling it between her teeth.  
  
Her hand at the back of his neck holding tightly.  
  
Then agony - bright, red, searing agony. Nate writhed and twisted and hollered, screaming and squealing into the gag, the deadly sharp blade flaying the skin from one side of his chest, peeling away thin red ribbons of flesh. The knife caught hard on the bud of his nipple, and Dixie bit her lip, moaning in her throat, digging the knife into the tender bundle of nerves and slicing roughly through the muscle. Nate's stomach heaved and he puked, thin bloody bile pouring through his nose, around the fabric stuffed in his mouth, bitter and acrid and sharp, and he gagged and swallowed... and blacked out.  
  
Dixie stood back, pulling her panties gently from his mouth and dropping them to the floor carelessly with a wet splat, blood and bile stringing from Nate's slack mouth. She picked up her pants and wriggled back into them, humming to herself. She looked at Nate's limp body, sighed, and reached over to the table and pulling a stimpak from a drawer.  
  
“Better fix you up a little.”  
  
She rubbed the side of his cheek, then picked the blade in his shoulder free and jammed the needle there, squeezing the solution tersely into his wound, then tugged it out and stabbed it sharply into his chest. The cold rush of antiseptic and steroids pulled him back into the room, and Dixie unhooked him, laying him on his back on the floor, amidst the blood and shavings of skin. 

Dixie squatted by him, watching him shake, his breath shallow, his eyes fogged and unable to focus. She took his hand, squeezing it tightly.  
  
“Y'know, you're a lot of fun. Maybe one day I'll get to finish you off.”  
  
She slid her hand over his ring finger, and tugged away the wedding band; Nate fought desperately for consciousness, saw her slipping the ring into her pocket as he lost the battle and sank back to blackness.  
  
“I'm gonna hang on to this, just in case.”


	8. Caught - Nate/MacCready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've veered off list for a little thing here, because it's fun and sexy and you can't stop me. These boys are just gettin' it, all the damn time. Set shortly after the one called "boys do it better", just imagine it's the first time. Again.

Nate was asleep. MacCready was sure of it.

Well, half sure; he wasn't snoring, but his breath was rasping a little in his throat, steady and even, like a strange little tide from his lungs. Mac shuffled along the bedroll a little, trying to keep some distance between them, and pulled the corner of the sleeping bag up to his chin. It'd been weeks since they'd had any time apart, and MacCready was starting to get a little...tense. He didn't _like_ doing this, not with someone so close, but it certainly wasn't the first time – growing up in Lamplight had certainly taught him how to be quiet about it, and anyway, after the...  
  
He shook his head, pushing it away.  
  
_Okay. Okay, here goes_.  
  
He moved his hand slowly, carefully, under the cover, down the flat of his stomach and into his pocket, fishing out a small, crumpled picture, smoothing it out one handed and propping it carefully against the edge of his pack, close to his face – a clipping from a pre-war skin-mag, the picture was well worn, thick white fold-lines creasing and criss-crossing the action, but all the bits that mattered were still clear as day.  
  
His hand crept to the front of his pants, silently unfastening them and sliding them down his hips, just a little, just enough. He kept his breathing soft, almost holding his breath as his fingertips brushed down the side of his dick, as he pulled it out of his pants, as he tucked the front of his vest up over his stomach. He shivered in anticipation, curling his fingers down into his pubic hair, rubbing the heel of his palm along his shaft, cold nerves running down his back. God he needed this; his balls felt bluer than a mutfruit, even the rough surface of the bedroll felt good against his skin.  
  
He sucked his stomach in, a bright burst of sensation pealing from his groin as he tugged softly at himself, and focused on the photo – god knows how many times he'd jerked off to this picture, even if it was hard to make out in the dark room, he knew it like the back of his hand. The woman's hair falling down her back, her round, peachy ass, her smooth, clear skin, _fuck, I bet she smells delicious, like fresh air in the morning, bet she tastes so clean and fucking swee-_  
  
Nate shuffled, and MacCready froze, jerking his eyes up, staring at the wall in taut silence. Nate moved again, drawing the blanket further up his shoulders, curling his hand beneath the small pillow. MacCready let his breath out slowly, silently, relief washing through him.  
  
_Okay, still asleep. Okay..._  
  
He fixed his eyes back on the photo, biting his lip, pushing his hips forward a little, crossing his ankles. His eyes scanned the picture restlessly. Her spread legs, her knees up at her shoulders, the soft pink swell of her pussy under her dirty blonde pubes, the guy putting it in her hard and fast... or maybe slow, maybe taking his time, letting her slide onto his dick, teasing her, just the tip, pushing it in _real slow. God it must feel so good to be in her, to have him in her..._  
  
MacCready squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on the corner of the blanket, one hand clamped in a wet fist around the head of his cock, the other smoothing up over his chest, pinching his nipple. His mind wandered, all on it's own; the first time he'd gotten close to a girl, just before he left lamplight, his hand tucked inside her dress, exploring her while she wriggled in his lap; how he'd felt inside Lucy when they'd made it the first time, so soft but so desperate for each other; when they'd gotten their own place, a real bed, how he'd bent her over it and eaten her wet pussy until she couldn't take it and begged for him; remembering how she'd pulled him away before he came inside her and took it in her mouth instead, _shit _that was good_; _remembering how it felt, hazy and cold, outside the bar in Sanctuary, Nate on his knees in the dirt, his mouth warm and wet around -  
  
He gasped, a little too loudly, and let go of his dick, clamping his teeth together, breath hissing into the blanket.

_What the fuck, man? We're jerking to this now?_  
  
He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, cracked his wrist in a slow circle.  
  
_Fine_.  
  
It had felt pretty good, drunk or not.

_And it wasn't like you turned him down. You let him do it, didn't you? You let him suck your dick, 'cause you're a dirty little pervert, and wanted to know what it's like._  
  
MacCready's stomach tensed, and he clenched his thighs. God he was right _there, _this was such a bad idea...  
  
_Yeah, with an _older_ guy. A guy who's paying you. RJ you little creep. You want him to take advantage of you, yeah, you want him to use you and..._  
  
He whimpered, pulling his knees up, a shiver running through him, that sweet, hot tension building in his stomach. He spread his legs, panting softly into the blanket.  
  
Nate cleared his throat.  
  
Loudly.  
  
Deliberately.  
  
MacCready started, panic rushing him, blushing bright red and cold, his hard-on softening almost instantly. He lay absolutely still, his pulse bursting in his ears, gripping the folds of his pants until his knuckles were white – _Shit! -_ he didn't dare pull them up yet. Nate moved, rolling carefully onto his back, and they sat, silent, paused in the darkness.  
  
Nate spoke first.  
  
“You, uh... you need me to go outside? For a little while?”  
  
MacCready cursed silently, screwing his eyes shut. He swallowed.  
  
“Uhh... no, you're... you're okay.” His voice came out high and wavering. He heard Nate stifle a laugh.  
  
“You sure? I can take a smoke for ten minutes...”  
  
MacCready slid his pants back up, arching his ass off the floor and huffing, shame-faced, tense frustration settling in him.  
  
“It's fine.”  
  
Nate snickered.  
  
“Doesn't sound fine.”  
  
“It's _fine._”  
  
Nate rolled again, leaning up on his elbow, facing MacCready. Mac stayed facing the wall, his cheeks hot and his mouth dry, his pulse heavy in his groin. Nate nudged him playfully.  
  
“What's the matter, you hoping I'm gonna take over?”  
  
Mac shivered and gritted his teeth. “Get lost.”  
  
Nate snickered.   
  
“What were you thinking about?”  
  
His voice was plastered with that smug little smile. MacCready grimaced.  
  
“You getting off my dick about it, and never talking to me again.”

“_Ouch._” Nate sighed, then, almost a whisper: “I thought maybe you liked that. Me. _On your dick_.”  
  
MacCready swallowed.  
  
“Fuck off.”  
  
Nate shrugged, hesitated; then rubbed his hand gently against MacCready's thigh.  
  
“I'm right here if you... y'know, change your mind.”

Nate lifted his hand away, closed his eyes. Mac felt the pressure of hot nerves in his chest, and like it or not, his dick was getting hard again.

_This fuckin' guy, he's just... he just knows, doesn't he? That it... that after - _Mac struggled a flurry of thoughts into a conscious stream -_ you could just lie back and let him, y'know..._  
  
A little sigh shivered from his mouth, and he glanced over his shoulder at Nate.  
  
He lay on his back, one arm folded behind his head, looking at the ceiling still, staring off at nothing in particular. MacCready reached out, hands moving on their own, pulling Nate's hand back against his body, rolling towards him, teeth almost chattering with nerves.  
  
“Okay. You're right.” he whispered, his eyes cast down to Nate's collarbone. “I did like it. You... I, uh... you wanna jerk me off?  
  
“Mmm,” Nate purred rolling towards him, “_so_ romantic.”  
  
He smiled wryly, squeezing MacCready's hip.  
  
“Sure, Romeo. You feel like returning the favour?”  
  
“Uh...” Mac looked flustered, biting his lip, puffing his cheeks.  
  
“C'mon,” Nate pulled up close to MacCready, “y'know I won't tell anyone.”  
  
Mac shuddered, pressing the flat of his palm lightly, curiously, against Nate's crotch; Nate responded, digging his fingers softly into MacCready's bare skin, running his hand up the merc's flat, skinny stomach... and down, between his thighs, taking the head of his cock between thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently. MacCready shut his eyes, sighing, hesitantly unbuttoning Nate's pants and sliding his hand inside. Nate's dick was soft, and warm, and smooth, and as MacCready brushed his fingers against it, cautiously, his own dick twitched up hard in Nate's hand.  
  
_Shit, this feels good._  
  
Nate murmured something quietly, grinding against MacCready's palm, steady breathing hot against Mac's neck. He whispered;  
  
“Just tell me how much you want.”  
  
MacCready groaned.  
  
“I dunno, man, I … ah, I dunno.” He met Nate's eyes, swallowed, left them again. Nate nodded.  
  
“How's it feel?” His hand traced gently, small circles, soft sweeps. “You still like it?”  
  
Mac laughed under his breath.  
  
“It feels pretty good.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah. Better than I... I mean-”  
  
Nate's eyes wrinkled at the corner, glinting mischievously.  
  
“Better than... you imagined?”  
  
Mac's cheeks coloured. “Been putting off thinking about it, I guess.”  
  
“Yeah, but you _were _thinking about it,” Nate teased, squeezing gently at MacCready's nuts, “'cause I just caught you with your hand in your pants.”  
  
MacCready laughed and nodded, rubbing his hand gently over Nate's hardening cock.  
  
“'Okay, maybe I was. Doesn't mean I want you listening in. A man deserves a little privacy.”  
  
Nate dug his fingers behind Mac's hip, and dipped his mouth to the merc's shoulder, kissing softly along the bone and feeling him shiver, grunting slightly as Mac tightened his grip.  
  
“Don't try gimme that. You were whacking off half a foot away from me...”  
  
He skimmed his mouth down to MacCready's nipple, flicking slowly with his tongue, breathing hot against the merc's skin.  
  
“...and I even offered to go outside.._.”_  
  
MacCready gave a short, nervous giggle, clasping the back of Nate's head with his free hand.  
  
“...but _I_ think...”  
  
He pushed his hips forward firmly, the tip of his dick sliding through MacCready's fingers, and Nate wrapped his hand tight around the merc's cock, jerking him slowly.  
  
“...I think you were waiting for me to catch you.”  
  
MacCready bit his lip, curling his fingers in Nate's hair. He whispered:  
  
“I think you might be right.”


	9. cross dressing, role reversal, boss/secretary, hair pulling, facefucking - Nate/MacCready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little note about "cross dressing" - Nate just wears skirts sometimes, not as an erotic thing, just because he likes them, but for the sake of the prompt, we're making it a *thing*

The door swung open, cutting a wedge of bright sunlight into the shade of the Home Plate's front room. Nate dropped his pack to the floor the second he stepped through the door, and MacCready span on his chair, dropping the ragged cloth and freshly polished lense to the workbench in front of him. He looked at Nate, grinnning, the expression slowly melting to a puzzled frown.  
  
"What is _that_?"  
  
“What?”  
  
“_That_.”  
  
MacCready pursed his lips, screwing up his face, and gestured at Nate. Nate looked at him deadpan, ruffling the seam of the pale, pink skirt beneath his jacket.  
  
“_What_? You never seen a skirt before?”  
  
“No. Never.” MacCready rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”  
  
Nate smirked.  
  
“You don't like it? Not my colour?”  
  
Mac wrinkled his nose and shrugged, and Nate clicked his tongue loudly.  
  
“I walked ten miles in the damned thing to get home. Don't you be a pain in the ass as soon as I'm through the door.”  
  
He gestured at the surroundings.  
  
“You're gonna tell me that we're using bottle caps for currency, eating 200 year old cans of pork and beans, and growing tuber-fruit hybrids out of irradiated soil, and you have a _problem_ with me wearing a skirt?”  
  
“I never said that! I just... I never saw you wearing one before is all.”  
  
Nate swept his hand through his hair and dropped to the sofa, crossing his ankles lazily.  
  
“Yeah, well, I never split my pants climbing up a scaffold to get a fucking copper pipe before. You gonna get me a beer or what?”  
  
Mac laughed and turned for the fridge. Nate sprawled on the sofa, flouncing dramatically. “Anyway, it's _pretty._”  
  
Mac snorted.  
  
“Yeah I mean... sure, it is, but... I dunno man, I never saw you as the type.”  
  
Nate sat up on his elbows.  
  
“What's that supposed to mean?”  
  
Mac retrieved a cold beer from the fridge and placed it gently on the floor by Nate, then slid back into the chair at the workbench.  
  
“I dunno man. Reminds me of... Valentine's girl, the cute one, from the office, what's her name again?”  
  
“Ellie?” Nate supplied, eyebrows raised.  
  
“Yeah. Her. All you need is the scarf, and the little clipboard thing.”  
  
Nate took a mouthful of beer, watching MacCready carefully.  
  
“... “_the cute one”_? You chasing every girl in Diamond City now?”  
  
“Naw, man, I just meant sh-”  
  
“Scarlet, Piper-” Nate counted on his fingers.  
  
“Hey that was _one time_ man, and I wasn't _chasing, _I was _enquiring._”  
  
“Enquiring what? If she wanted it in the bathroom at Vadim's place?”  
  
“No! I asked if she wanted to step outside and get some fresh air, actually, an-”  
  
Nate laughed, knowingly. “That's not the way she tells it, son.”  
  
Mac looked flustered, almost spitting his words.  
  
“Yeah well you're one to talk. She might be in your bed but she ain't afraid to tell the world when you've been an asshole. Named and shamed in the paper? I couldn't take that pressure.”  
  
Nate laughed, stretching his arms high and yawning.  
  
“Yadda yadda, you're just jealous that I have a beautiful girlfriend _and _a fetching new outfit.”  
  
MacCready laughed.  
  
“Nope. But I _am _jealous I didn't see you rip your pants in public in pursuit of some junk.”  
  
He sighed, shaking his head wistfully.  
  
“Always miss the good stuff. You, out there, snagged on a pole, giving the mutants an eyeful.”  
  
Nate shut his eyes, smiling quietly.  
  
“Everything is a_ predicament _with you, huh? You read anything but skin mags and Grognak these days, Bobby?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
He crossed the room and sat gently on Nate's thighs, resting a hand on his cheek.  
  
“Gotta have something to keep me company while you're out flashing your ass at the wastes. Hope you saved some for me.”  
  
Nate turned his head and kissed the palm of MacCready's hand, eyes still closed, sleep creeping in like a soft, warm tide.  
  
“Right now, kid, I'm _sheets_. I'll make it up to you later.”  
  
“Mmhmm?” he cooed, stroking Nate's face delicately, “In your pretty new dress?”  
  
Nate nodded.  
  
“In my pretty new dress. Get me a clipboard, I'll even play secretary.” He mumbled.  
  
“That a promise?” MacCready ran his fingers through Nate's hair, and Nate sighed comfortably.  
  
“Sure thing, _boss_.”  
  
Mac bent low and whispered in Nate's ear, twirling a long strand of Nate's hair around his finger. “Put on a little show for me? Flutter your eyelashes and ask me for a raise? _Oh, no, I dropped my pen, be a doll and get that for me?_ Bend over the desk and...”  
  
Nate laughed sleepily.  
  
“Anything you say, Mr. MacCready, sir.”  
  


  
When Nate woke up, MacCready was a whole new man. He was freshly shaved, his hair was combed, he'd  _showered_ . And he'd borrowed a plain, black suit and tie, and a white shirt from Nate's makeshift wardrobe. He looked  _good, _ even if he'd had to turn up the trousers significantly, and the shoes he'd borrowed were clearly three sizes too big. Mac turned around as Nate sat up on the sofa.  
  
“All caught up on your beauty sleep?”  
  
Nate snorted.  
  
“Sure am, but what the hell happened to you? The Institute swap you for a newer model while I was out?”  
  
“Very funny, wise-ass. Water's boiled, make yourself a coffee. And if you're...” he paused, “uh, ready to get started, you can make me one too. Sugar, dash of cream if you've got it.”  
  
Nate rolled to his feet,wiping his eyes.  
  
“You've been talking to Valentine. No one else even thinks about cream in coffee around here.”  
  
“Well, just a little, uh, background check, y'know? Always good to get a reference from a previous.. uh, what's the word...”  
  
“Employer?”  
  
“Yeah.” MacCready laughed. “That'll do.”  
  
Nate grinned as he stirred the coffee, calling over his shoulder.  
  
“Y'seem a little nervous, Mac.”  
  
“Well,” He smoothed his tie and leaned on the edge of the workbench. “The interview process can be pretty, uh, rigorous. I'm sorta anxious to get going.”  
  
Nate's mouth hung open, about to speak, their eyes met, and they laughed, a little nervous after all. Nate smirked and raised his eyebrows in assent, taking a mug in each hand.  
He swayed his hips as he crossed the room, sliding seductively onto the edge of the workbench in front of MacCready, pressing the coffee into his hand and placing his own on the table, folding one long leg across the other.  
  
MacCready raised his chin and fixed Nate with a steady glare, eyes twinkling.  
  
“Why don't you take a  _seat, Ms. Stahl._ ”  
  
Nate laughed loudly, and MacCready flashed a dorky little smile, just for a second, then cleared his throat and gestured to the chair. Nate sat down, crossing his knees and resting his hands demurely in his lap. Mac stood up. Behind him, on the desk, was a sturdy, teal-lacquered typewriter. Nate mumbled under his breath, amused, and MacCready pulled a ream of paper from the desk drawer, placing it neatly beside the machine. He leaned back against the table again, crossing his arms over his chest. God he looked good in that suit.  
  
“So I hear you're a pretty efficient typist, Ms Stahl. Would you say that's true?”  
  
Nate nodded.  
  
“Because I'm gonna need someone who can keep up with me. Being Mayor and all, leaves me with a lotta official documents and letters need sending, press releases, y'know the stuff. I'm gonna need someone who works  _hard_ , someone who's  _flexible, _ who doesn't mind  _long_ hours or working on a big project that could keep her awake at night.”  
  
His voice lowered, and he dropped his hands to the desk.  
  
“ _All _ night. That sound like something you can handle?”  
  
Nate bit his lip, stifling a laugh.  
  
“Sure thing, Mr MacCready. I can handle it.”  
  
“Glad to hear it. You do come highly recommended, after all. But I just need to... check you out for myself, you understand. See if I'm gonna...  _you're _ gonna fit in.”  
  
Nate looked up at him, almost blushing. He really was pretty good at this. MacCready smiled and nodded at the typewriter, hands in his pockets.  
  
“Well go on sweetheart, why don't you go ahead and set it up?”  
  
Nate shook his head amicably, and set to work loading the paper into the typewriter, tapping it neatly on the desk first to straighten the ream and slotting it carefully against the metal innards. He reached to turn the dial and MacCready leaned in close, the merc's hand closed over his, turning the plastic firmly.  
  
“This one can get a little... stiff. Lemme give you a hand.”  
  
Nate sniffed, playing at keeping his composure. MacCready smelled  _good_ , like the warm sheets on their bed, and Nate's nerves suddenly shook themselves awake. He pressed his face closer to the merc's neck, careful not to let their skin touch, and inhaled slowly. MacCready definitely noticed, his hand froze for a second, then squeezed Nate's knuckles gently and returned to his pocket.  
  
“Okay, so why don't you type up the list here, lemme see if what they say about you is true.”  
  
He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, leaning over Nate to drop it on the table, and Nate swallowed loudly.  
  
“Gee, Mr. MacCready, I hope you haven't heard too much about me. The rumour mill around here can get pretty mean on a gal who's just trying to make ends meet.”  
  
MacCready dropped his hand to Nate's shoulder.  
  
“I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about, sweetheart. You sound like just the kind of girl I'm looking for.”  
  
Nate picked up the list, and set to work typing. It had been a long while since he'd done anything like this, the action felt strangely alien and powerfully nostalgic all at once. And then MacCready pressed against his back, clasping his shoulders again and bending to speak in his ear.  
  
“Don't you just have the prettiest hands?”  
  
He reached out and took Nate's fingers in his palm, turning Nate to face him.  
  
“Beautiful. You look like you walked straight out of the commercials, y'know that?”  
  
Nate did his best innocent,flirtatious smile and pulled his hand away slowly, returning it to the typewriter. Mac spoke again:  
  
“Let's try dictating something, hmm?”  
  
Nate's fingers paused over the keys. This was gonna be something.  
  
“ _Dear Mr. Valentine, please take this letter as my formal resignation from the post of secretary within your_ ...” he paused.  
  
“Establishment?” Nate offered, shifting his knees, letting his skirt slip high on one thigh.  
  
MacCready licked his lip thoughtfully.  
  
“Yeah, that'll do.  _I have enjoyed my many years of working with you, but I am moving on to the hopefully long and storied service of one Mr R. J. MacCready, where I am looking forward to pushing the limits and boundaries of my..._ ”  
  
Nate looked at him, and he smiled wickedly.  
  
“... _ambition and talent. Mr MacCready describes the post as”personal assistant” and as such will require my... service outside usual business hours.”  
_   
Nate swept a hand through his hair, and adjusted himself in the seat, re-crossing his legs and gently tugging the hem of his skirt down,  _just _ an inch or two, letting his hand trail against his skin.  
MacCready tutted.  
  
“Maybe hiring you would be a bad idea after all.”  
  
Nate looked at him, puppy-dog eyes wide and lip trembling.  
  
“What... what do you mean?”  
  
MacCready's hand brushed against Nate's thigh, pinching the pink fabric between his finger and thumb, lifting it up and peeking playfully underneath.  
  
“Maybe you'd be too damn distracting.”  
  
Nate grabbed MacCready's hand and squeezed it tight, batted his eyelids, feigning tears.  
  
“Oh please, Mr MacCready. I really do need this job. I'd do anything.”  
  
Mac laughed, caught himself, focused.  
  
“Anything?”  
  
Nate nodded, trailing long fingers down the merc's tie.  
  
“ _Anything._ ”  
  
MacCready shuffled, unbuttoning his jacket and reaching for his belt.  
  
“Well, I guess there's...  _one _ thing I could really use.”  
  
He rested his hand against Nate's temple, brushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear, and Nate shivered. The other hand pulled a small plastic cylinder out of his pocket, and placed it on the desk, unclipping the lid to reveal a pristine, red point of wax.  
  
“Ms. Stahl, I want you to put your lipstick on. Unfasten your blouse. Take off your panties. And then I want you to get on your knees in front of this desk and suck my dick.”  
Nate's heart kicked up a notch, and blood rushed to his cock. He nodded.  
  
He stared at the lipstick, then at Mac, momentary disbelief - where had he found _that?_ \- then picked up the lipstick, his hands shaking a little, and stood up and stepped over to the mirror in the corner of the room. Slowly, carefully, he painted a smooth sweep of bright red across his bottom lip, angled the point upwards, and traced the points of a cupid's bow across the top lip. Almost like he'd done it before.  
  
He wound the lipstick back into the case and set it down on the table, turning to face MacCready, and slowly ran his hand down the front of his shirt, unpicking the buttons one at a time until it hung loose around his thin, white body. MacCready reached out, smoothing a hand across Nate's stomach, and knotted the corners of the shirt tight around his midriff, then pressed the heel of his hand on Nate's shoulder, and Nate sank to his knees, mouth open in a soft pout. Mac slid his palms into the open front of Nate's shirt, cupping the soft tissue around his breastbone, squeezing gently, catching the man's nipples with the joint of his thumbs. Nate gasped a little in his throat.  
  
MacCready locked eyes with him.  
  
“You got a pretty face, Ms Stahl. Shame about these little titties, but you can't have everything, I guess.”  
  
Nate bit his lip, feigning embarrassment, and MacCready's hand traced across his chest, over his shoulder, up his neck, burying into his hair and pulling his head back. He let out a soft little moan and shut his eyes, silver nerves rushing down his neck and spine.  
  
Mac's other hand left his chest, and Nate heard the rustle of cloth and soft clink of metal, MacCready unfastening his belt and opening his pants. The hand in his hair tugged hard, snapping his eyes open and opening his jaw wide. He whispered:  


“That's right, be a good girl and open up for me.”  
  
MacCready's dick was already hard, and he pushed it against Nate's bottom lip, rubbing lightly, carefully over the friction of his teeth. Nate, for a moment, didn't move; the weight of it against his mouth gave him a slow bubble of heat in his groin, and he shivered; MacCready laughed, rubbing his cock against Nate's face, tapping it heavily against his cheek. He cupped Nate's jaw and dragged the head of his dick across Nate's lips, leaving a wet string of pre-ejaculate and smearing lipstick messily across his mouth, and Nate extended his tongue, working flatly up the underside and swirling around the tip, sucking it into his mouth enthusiastically and relishing the taste of him.  
  
“Oh, baby, yeah... oh that feels  _good_ , honey. You're good, ain'tcha? Is this is what Nicky had you doin' all day?”  
  
He laughed, and pulled Nate's hair tighter.  
  
“ _Ah, y'think... _ y'think I could keep you under my desk, baby? End of a long day I think this pretty painted mouth would be the  _best_ thing a man could ask for.”  
  
Nate laughed, and Mac slid further into him, wrapping both hands in his hair and squeezing his arms tight around Nate's face, pushing deep into the other man's mouth, holding him firmly, letting him gag and wriggle as Mac thrust hard into the warm, wet cavity of his throat. Nate held his breath, and leaned heavily on Mac's thighs, letting the merc fuck his mouth, the thick, wet sound of flesh and spit and gurgling air loud in the quiet room, and Nate's blood strained against his cheeks with pressure. Mac huffed and grunted and snapped his hips fast, little sounds of effort and pleasure wheezing thinly from his throat.  
  
He pulled out suddenly, dragging Nate spluttering off the end of his dick. Nate coughed and wiped his mouth, face screwed up and flinching away from MacCready. Mac was grinning fiendishly, one hand still wrapped in Nate's hair and holding him still, the other slapping his cock wetly across Nate's face, giggling. They looked at each other, pausing for breath, and laughed. MacCready's voice dropped back to his role.  
  
“That was good, baby. Get up on the desk for me now, huh?”


	10. Sounding, rimming, overstimulation, frottage - Nate/MacCready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pt 2 is finally up XD

Nate laughed and leaned heavily on the corner of the desk, climbing to his feet. MacCready shrugged off his jacket, loosening his tie, and pulling it off over his head, grinning infectiously. He pressed close behind Nate, catching his hands and whipping them behind his back, knotting the tie swiftly around his wrists before Nate could object, and pressing a hand between Nate's shoulders, bending him double.  
  
“You're very impressive, Ms. Stahl. I gotta hand it to you. Best candidate I've seen today.”  
  
Mac smoothed his hand up the back of Nate's thigh, lifting the fabric of his skirt and folding it neatly up over Nate's skinny ass. He hooked his fingers under the elastic of Nate's pants, peeling them down, letting them fall softly around Nate's ankles.  
  
“Thought I asked you to take these off already?”  
  
Nate groaned and Mac planted his hands firmly at the top of Nate's thighs, spreading his ass cheeks, and, rising to the tips of his toes, pushed his dick against Nate's asshole. Nate gasped dramatically, and tried to wriggle away; MacCready's hand knotted into his hair again, and the merc pushed down, pressing Nate's chest flat to the table, cooing in his ear.  
  
“Be a good girl now. You said you wanted this job, didn't you? Or don't you have what it takes?”  
  
“Oh no, Mr MacCready, sir,” Nate panted, grinning, “I can do it. I'm just... it's just so  _big_ .”  
  
Mac laughed.  
  
“Flattery isn't gonna get you the job sweetheart.”   
  
He kissed at Nate's pulse, pulling his head back and flicking his tongue against the older man's neck, biting gently at his ear, teeth clacking against the silver hoop of his earring as he rolled the soft skin between his teeth.  
  
“Besides, all the other girls managed it just fine.”  
  
He pressed his hips forward again, and Nate squealed against the desk, his nipples hard against the cold wood, MacCready's bony knees digging against the backs of his thighs, his dick pressing hard into Nate's soft, pink asshole. Nate held his breath, trying desperately to relax and let him in; no, still too much. MacCready spat on his fingers and worked them against the tight muscle, and tried again; Nate yelped and pulled away, MacCready's dick missing its target and rubbing fat against his thigh instead. Mac yanked open the drawer beside him with one hand, grabbing a pencil from the tray inside and tugging Nate's head up, pressing the pencil against his mouth. Nate snorted strained laughter as he clamped it between his teeth, bending his knees to let Mac get a better angle.   
  
MacCready fumbled back into place and pushed again, one hand spreading Nate's ass, the other clasped firmly on his shoulder, and it still hurt like a bitch, but Nate's asshole stretched around the head of his cock, and he yelled and bit down hard around the pencil, his teeth sinking into the soft wood, cracking the varnish, feeling it flake against his tongue. His voice hitched, the sound catching in his guts, his chest tensing tight and diaphragm pulling hitching air through his teeth. He pressed his face to the table, a shivering, hiccuping sound wincing in his throat like a chirping, fluttering bird, and Mac brushed a hand through his hair softly, holding still for a second, whispering against his shoulder.  
  
“ _Shh_ ,  _shh_ ... ”  
  
Nate inhaled slowly, shakily, the merc's hands trailing his skin. MacCready pushed gently, and a flood of warm pleasure spilled up through him; he groaned low in his throat and let his shoulders relax against the table. Mac dragged his hand down Nate's spine, grasping his bound hands for a moment, squeezing gently, then wrapping his fingers firmly around Nate's hips. He bit his lip, and bucked up hard; Nate slammed against the table and called out, teeth gritted around the pencil, pleasure throbbing through him.  
  
“Ah,  _god! Fuck._ ”  
  
Mac jerked his hips again, and Nate moaned, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched behind his back. MacCready pulled at his hips, sliding him back against the merc's flat stomach, again, and again, the dry slap of skin stinging his ass as MacCready's pace quickened, and  _god,_ he felt good, but  _Jesus, _ he was big, and  _fuck, _ it was hard going _._ Nate's jaw was aching with tension, pencil gritted hard between his teeth, and Mac wasn't letting up, at all, fucking him hard and fast, pulling his hair, grabbing his ass, shoving his face down against the table. Hard going, but  _fuck_ , it was good.  
He stepped back suddenly, pulling out and holding Nate still, then smacked his ass and pulled him up straight. The pencil fell from his mouth, and Nate's back cracked loudly as he stood, MacCready laughed and stroked a hand up his shoulder, and kissed his neck lightly, speaking quietly in his ear.  
  
“Sit up, on the table, spread your knees for me, honey.”  
  
Nate did as instructed, spinning neatly and sliding up onto the desk, the pale pink fabric sliding against his skin, pulling taut at the front, tenting around his hard dick. MacCready smiled hungrily, and swept the skirt up, exposing everything to the cool air. He grabbed Nate's balls, gently, but firm enough, the threat coiled in the muscles of his hand.  
  
“Okay, sweetie, I want you to play with yourself, for me, just for a minute. Stay right where you are, and just touch yourself, real slow, okay?”  
  
Nate laughed breathlessly, his eyes glinting mischievously.  
  
“You gonna untie me so I can do that? Sir?”  
  
Mac paused for a second, then laughed, wiping his face.  
  
“Second thoughts. You can just stew for a second.”  
  
He lifted Nate's knees, setting his feet on the desk, wide apart, and dropped down to a squat, rummaging in one of the drawers below. He found what he was looking for quickly, and stood, hunching for a moment, tucking something in his pocket, then leaning in and kissing Nate's thigh, trailing his mouth across his balls, down the soft, sensitive skin to his asshole, and set his tongue to work there. Nate gasped loudly, his dick twitching hard, and Mac pushed closer, flicking his tongue, rolling it, pushing the tip like a little bullet inside him. Nate moaned, laughing, and shut his eyes.  
  
“Ah, Mr MacCready, sir, that feels real good.”  
  
Mac smiled, and pulled away quickly.  
  
“That good honey? You like it inside you? Well I got something else for you to try.”  
  
He turned, perched himself on the desk beside Nate, and lifted Nate's leg over his, keeping him spread wide, and wrapped a hand around his dick, tugging slowly, until Nate groaned and a short tremor ran through him, a thick, wet slick of pre-ejaculate running from the head of his cock.  
  
“ _Perfect_ .” Mac whispered, squeezing Nate's leg tightly, then digging in his pocket. Nate watched, nerves fizzing through him, as MacCready pulled out a... what was that? Like a long, thin metal rod, looked like the shaft from... maybe it was one of the... oh,  _shit.   
_   
It didn't matter what it was; Mac had it pressed against the head of his dick, the thin, rounded end of the rod rolling gently, pushing against the opening of his urethra. Nate shuddered, trying to stay relaxed, and MacCready pushed, carefully, and  _oh my god, _ it slid inside him.   
  
Nate flinched, whimpering, his legs tensing reflexively, and Mac held him still, cooing softly.  
  
“Sit still baby, I'll make it feel good, but you gotta sit still.”  
  
“ _Fuck, Bobby, that's... _ ah!”  
  
Mac kept sliding his hand around Nate's shaft, and the slow, cold length of metal pressed deeper, deeper into him. Nate threw his head back, groaning in strained pleasure as it found its mark, and MacCready's hand pressed carefully, two fingers sliding up and down the length of him, over his balls, pressing behind them, searching for that sweet spot. Nate moaned loud, his body tensed, and Mac pressed again, and again, coaxing waves of pleasure through him.  
  
MacCready's hand slowed, and he slipped down from the desk, one hand still wrapped around Nate's cock, and he slid between Nate's thighs, pushing close to him, wrapping his hand around both of them, sliding slowly at first, then faster, tugging them together, two fingers pressed to the head of Nate's cock, pinching the thin metal still inside him. It felt  _good_ , so good, pressed up together like that, soft skin and hard flesh moving in time, and Nate bucked, and cried out, tense and flushed with heat. Mac pulled gently, the metal rod sliding smoothly upwards, then pushed it carefully back down, rolling another wave of deep, thick pleasure through Nate's guts. He held it there, jerking them both quickly, the pre-cum from Nate's dick sliding wet against his own, and  _man, _ that felt good.  
  
His other hand picked carefully at the slight protrusion of the metal rod, rolling his thumb over the tip, pressing the softest of pressure, watching Nate as it pushed at his prostate, little, soft nudges that were tipping him over, and over, and over the edge.   
  
MacCready's balls tensed up, and he held still a second, but didn't let up on Nate – he pulled out the thin metal, and Nate shuddered and twitched, gritting his teeth and groaning loud as he came, a flood of cum coating MacCready's hand, and his cock, running down his shaft. Mac bit his lip, jerking harder. The soft, hot skin and thick, warm wetness felt good, so good, so _ fucking_ good, and Nate's stomach was curled hard, his shoulders tense, and his face, god he looked so good, still cumming, jaw clenched, almost  _crying, god it must be way too much, huh? That feeling?  
_   
Nate whined, and laughed, shaking his head. _   
  
“_ Oh... _ shit. _ Okay, stop. Bobby. Shit,  _stop it-”  
_   
MacCready laughed, and kept going; he wasn't about to give up now, not when he was this close.  
  
“Bobby, ah,  _fuck, please. Please, _ it's too much, it's too much, it's too mu-ah!”  
  
Nate yelped again, his hips spasming, his legs jerking against the table top, somewhere between laughter and tears. Oh, this was sweet, watching him suffer like that, his chest just heaving and his balls up tight and  _his dick is tryin' so hard to go soft on me, hah, not a chance, not a goddamn chance, you're gonna take this until I-  
_ Nate bucked and struggled, laughing, squealing helplessly, and Mac kept up the pressure, harder, faster, tighter,  _oh shit_ - _  
  
“Just until I come, baby, that's all. Just a little longer.”  
_   
He stroked the side of Nate's face, and Nate flinched, then leaned into his touch, panting and gasping and twitching.  
  
“ _Shhh, shh, it won't be long, it won't be- oh fuck. Oh fuck, yeah. There it is, ah honey, stay with me, just grit your teeth I'm almost-_   
  
MacCready about exploded over him, groaning loudly and throbbing thick splashes of cum across Nate's dick, and stomach, and his hand, and the pretty pink cotton skirt still folded up at Nate's waist. He fell forward, leaning his face on Nate's shoulder, kissing his skin, sweat glistening between them, Nate still flushed bright red with overwrought nerves. He squeezed his dick, just a couple more times, and Nate shuddered violently, knees snapping together around MacCready's hips.  
  
“ _Okay_ , woah, really – stop! Bobby, stop, stop, ohhh shit...”  
  
MacCready withdrew his hand, shaking his wrist gently, looking for a rag to wipe himself off on. He found one, cleaned up his hands, then his own dick, leaving Nate spread on the table, still bound and stained with his pleasure. Mac laughed.  
  
“Ain't you just a sight, Ms Stahl. Sitting at your desk, just  _covered_ in cum. Yeaahhh, I think you earned the position.”  
  
He leaned around Nate, untying his hands gently, giving his dick a gentle squeeze, making him flinch again.  
  
“You can start in the morning; I usually got some business to attend to straight away when I wake up.”  
  
Nate smiled faintly, reeling with sensation.  
  
“Please, Mr MacCready, can I go home now? I wanna... wanna get some rest before... tomorrow.”  
  
MacCready kissed his cheek and laughed.  
  
“Ah, sweetie, you're a real professional, huh?”

**Author's Note:**

> Look I know people don't comment on porn (except me, I do, no shame) but it'd mean the world to get some sense of what people are enjoying or not about what I'm writing. I'm definitely open to constructive criticism, and pointers, and requests, so just lemme know what you think :)


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